Chaos and Entropy
by Sings-off-key
Summary: Hired to rescue a kidnapped tiefling bard, our roguish heroine discovers the situation isn't quite what it seems. Rated M for language and sex! Now complete!
1. Girls' Night Out

_Author's Note:_

_First the boring disclaimers—this story is fanfic based on the game and characters from Baldur's Gate 2, which I, alas, neither own nor profit from. I have taken liberties with them nonetheless. In addition, a certain aspect of Mekrath's magical specialty was suggested to me by a wonderful game mod, Romantic Encounters—I don't own it either. Darn. And my planar slang was lifted for the most part from Voila's Dictionary of Planar Cant, which is just a google away for those who are interested. Even the story title is borrowed from the names of Haer'Dalis's swords._

_Q: Well, gosh, Sings, did you actually contribute anything at all? Anything?_

_A: Why yes, Dear Reader, I am responsible for the smart-alecky (if clueless) heroine and the puerile smut. Heh heh. _

_This story is my 2008 NaNoWriMo entry. After a futile attempt at a serious story, I turned to smut—and managed to churn out my 50,000 words, as well as learning a valuable, if demeaning, lesson about myself. Ahem. I expect to issue a censored version for the fanfic site and one with full smuttiness for __adultfanfic. Be advised that even the censored version is rated a strong M for language and sex._

_Comments and reviews are a huge incentive for all us fanfic writers, so please feel invited to sling one my way! (Rotten eggs are okay too.)_

**Chapter 1…Girls' Night Out**

Once or twice a ten-day, Nalia organized what she called a Girls' Night Out. Aerie, kind-hearted sap that she was, found this an indicator of Nalia's Essential Loneliness and took us each aside to urge us to participate. Me, I saw these outings as an indicator of Nalia's Essential Bossiness as well as a poorly disguised attempt to spoon feed us peasants some culture. But hey, I'm not opposed to rubbing up against a little culture. Particularly not when Nalia led us to places where I could rub up against valuable and easily pilfered trinkets of culture.

Ever since the disaster that landed us in Amn, Jaheira, who normally despised my light-fingered ways, tacitly approved them by serving as my banker. We'd been robbed of everything. Athkatla was an expensive place to live and I, according to Imoen, had been born with a hole in my pocket. I don't know about that but I had to admit that gold in my care tended to transmute itself into vapor.

We all took odd jobs where we could but Athkatla was a tricky lock to open. Unless you already looked wealthy or had patronage, decent paying work was hard to find. Almost every coin I scraped up went into Jaheira's safekeeping, until we could earn the staggering sum required to pry Imoen's location from the Cowled Wizards who had taken her.

I usually went along with Nalia's entertainments, in the hopes of stumbling into opportunity. Tymora doesn't favor those who sit on their asses and moan about their disasters. I balked at going to the theater however.

Growing up in Candlekeep, every cold, wet winter was made drearier by the plays put on by the monks. Obscure bardic texts, lengthy odes to Oghma, enthusiastic amateur performances and rock-hard benches—ah, the memories. Throughout the interminable performances, my father, Gorion, nailed me to my seat with spiky looks. To seal the hideousness, Imoen and I were never allowed to sit within giggle range of each other.

Imoen had usually been clever enough to arrange symptoms of a suitable illness a couple of days in advance. I, however, have always been disgustingly healthy. Besides, I was never as convincing a liar as she was.

The thought of voluntarily sitting through an entire play (thus exposing myself to Nalia's spiky looks) did not appeal. I coughed and tried to look pale.

Jaheira flat-out refused the invitation. When Nalia pressed her, she claimed an urgent need to clean her weapons.

"My dear Jaheira, how much cleaning does a quarterstaff require?" Nalia raised her brows. "Wouldn't a quick rub with a damp cloth suffice?" Jaheira gave her a thin smile.

"The wood is stained by the splattered brains of the last person who questioned me."

Nalia bit back whatever she was going to say. Emboldened by this, I refused as well, despite Aerie's huge pleading eyes.

"I can get us backstage to meet the actors," Nalia said. By her tone, that was meant to be an inducement.

"Why?" I asked bluntly.

"Haven't you heard of the leading man, Haer'Dalis? He's the talk of the town. He's a tiefling, as are several other members of the troupe."

"Oh, a real live tiefling from another plane?" Aerie practically clapped her hands. "It sounds so thrilling. I'd love to meet him."

Oh boy.

"I don't know much about actors," I said, "But every bard I've ever met was a conceited twit. Why would I want to meet another one?"

"Haer'Dalis is said to be extremely charming and attractive," Nalia said. "I thought it might be fun to check him out."

"Fun for whom?"

"Why, fun for you, Minette," Nalia cooed. "I thought you had an eye for a comely male."

"Who, me?"

Jaheira snickered. She wasn't close enough to kick so I ignored her.

"I don't know why you say that. I've practically sworn off men."

Aerie giggled behind her hand. I ignored her too. I'm not man-crazy. I'm really not. It's just that I have the worst luck with men. Perhaps my tainted blood is the reason Sune and Hanali Celanil curse me with short (if intense) relationships. Not to mention the fact that I end up with far more than my share of scoundrels.

"If I wanted to make eyes at some arrogant conceited twit, I wouldn't have to leave the Copper Coronet. I could stay in and let Anomen buy me drinks," I said. "I wouldn't have to dress up first or walk across town."

"Dinner and drinks on me!" Nalia said in desperation. "The Five Flagons Inn has every kind of drink."

"Every kind of drink? What does that mean? That sounds impossible."

Nalia shrugged.

"That's what the innkeeper claims—he says he has every kind of drink."

Now that sounded like something worth checking out.

Well, I don't know about every kind of drink but the Five Flagons certainly had a dazzling variety of beverages, ranging from the mild and commonplace to the exotic and toxic. Nalia commandeered a table and I asked the halfling barkeep to set us up with something different every round. Once we were sufficiently anesthetized, we stumbled down the stairs into the darkened playhouse. Nalia had given a boy a copper to hold our seats for us.

I thought a performance by a professional acting troupe would be more—well, more professional. At first, it hadn't been so bad. But from the moment the leading man walked onstage, what little interest I had in the story evaporated.

I gave Nalia a clout on the shoulder.

"This is your comely tiefling?" I hissed. Not that the fellow was hideous, but I certainly wouldn't rate him as charming and attractive. I wouldn't even rate him as much of an actor. The awkward delivery of his lines turned dramatic moments into farcical ones. Hells, he didn't even seem to know half his lines, judging by the growing consternation of the rest of the cast.

The restlessness from the cheap seats at the rear of the theater told me I was not alone in my disapproval.

Nalia shrugged in embarrassment. The small theater didn't have boxes, so she had decided the choicest seats were close to the stage. This certainly gave us a good view of the dagger looks that passed between cast members. It also placed us in imminent peril from flying critique.

The first missile—a moldy head of cabbage—passed over our heads and hit the stage with a wet thump. Come on. Who thinks to bring these things? Does any normal person walk around with rotted produce in their pocket? Sheesh. I felt under-prepared.

"Oh, dear," Aerie said.

"Oh, crap," I said. "Let's get out of here before they get to the eggs."

I hustled them up the stairs, overriding Aerie's yips of protest.

"Back to the bar?" I suggested.

"Sure, why not?" Nalia said, despondent at her spoiled plans. Just as well, really. Getting sloshed sounded more fun than going backstage. I reconsidered when I realized it was Aerie's turn to pick the drink. She pointed to an unlabeled bottle on an upper shelf.

"Ooh, I want to try that pink stuff," she told the barkeep. His surprised grin made me nervous. I started to point out the fact that bright colors in nature are signs of high toxicity but hells, why not? There was a temple around the corner with a healer always on call.

"I can't understand it," Nalia said as we eyed the drinks. The barkeep poured out a scant two fingers of liquor into tall glasses and more ominously still, set a pitcher of water before us. "I'd heard such good things about Haer'Dalis. I expected a better performance."

The bartender had been hovering nearby (probably to see our reaction to the pink decoction) but at this he swiveled his head towards Nalia.

"Is Haer'Dalis back then?" he asked. "And nobody told me?"

"What do you mean?" Nalia asked. "He plays the part of Rodrigo, does he not?"

"Oh, aye, but his understudy was supposed to be standing in for him tonight. Haer'Dalis has been missing for a couple of days now. Poor Raelis—if he doesn't show up soon, she'll have to shut down the playhouse."

"If I shut down the playhouse, the Sigil Troupe is ruined," a rich voice proclaimed behind me. "Ruined and destroyed."

I turned.

_Now that's exotic_.

I could practically feel the whiplash of male attention snap through the room and center upon the woman in the gorgeous red gown. Her hair was swept up in an elaborate coif that accentuated her small horns. There was a light spattering of spots along her forehead and temples. The spots were too large for freckles but they appeared to be natural markings, not cosmetics.

"A tiefling," Aerie breathed beside me.

Oh, yeah. The woman's energy prickled against my skin like a disturbance in the Weave. Was she a wizard? Or something else? I wanted to ask Aerie, who was a more experienced mage than I. I was betting on the something else.

"Samuel, my friend," the tiefling said. "I had to stop the performance. The audience became…unruly. I'm afraid they've left a bit of a mess."

I was thinking she'd made a bit of an understatement. By his sour look, the barkeep agreed.

"This can't go on, Mistress Raelis."

"No, you are quite right."

"You need to go to the city guard," he told her. "This is Athkatla. Wizards can't go snatching up people here and get away with it. The guards will help you get Haer'Dalis back."

I'd been listening idly but at that my ears perked up. Wizards certainly could snatch up people here, and no one knew that better than I did.

"The city guard helps the rich and the influential," Raelis said with bitterness. "We are strangers here and we cannot afford Amnian 'justice'. The Cowled Wizards will not so much as listen to my plea."

My ears perked up further.

"In that case, let me send for my old friend, Mazzy Fenton," the barkeep said. "She runs an adventuring company in Trademeet. I'm sure she'll be willing to help you."

"Yes," Raelis sighed. "I suppose we must hire someone to remonstrate with the wizard. Alas, Haer'Dalis was the intrepid one amongst us." She sighed again. "I can only hope and pray that we can keep the playhouse open for the time required. How long will it take to send a message to your friend and receive a reply?"

The barkeep frowned. That was my cue.

"Excuse me," I said. "Did you say 'hire'? As it happens, I have an adventuring company of my own."

Or I could put one together, with a little persuasion.

And that's how I ended up in the sewer. Just me and my big mouth.


	2. Another Stinking Sewer

**Chapter 2…Another Stinking Sewer**

What was a nice girl like me doing in a stinking hole like this? How often I find myself asking that very question! On the assumption that anything I wore in the sewer would be ruined, I'd bought a threadbare shirt and a baggy pair of breeches for a copper from one of the rag pickers that lurk behind the Copper Coronet. I looked (and smelled) like a beggar. I'd slunk out of my room at the crack of dawn so no one would see me.

My pals in the Shadow Thieves told me the Temple District had the best maintained sewers in the city. That's where I began. I started kicking myself from the moment I dropped through the access door and landed in something gooey. Gods. I hoped this didn't turn out to be another of my Really Stupid Ideas.

Sometimes I think I've spent half my life crawling through one rank sewer or another. Waste and filth are the inevitable products of human civilization, according to Jaheira. I think she's right.

The tiefling Haer'Dalis had been kidnapped by a wizard and was being held underground in his…well obviously tower wasn't the right word. Perhaps 'dungeon' would do. This Mekrath was, Raelis claimed, a crazed fanatic who had haunted their performances night after night and had finally made off with not only the tiefling but also the gem that he wore as part of his costume. The gem, Raelis said, was valuable in its own right and (for a tangled reason that I didn't quite follow) must be returned soon or the troupe would suffer some great terrible disaster. Perhaps it had been borrowed from a patron or some such thing. At any rate, Raelis offered me one thousand gold pieces for the return of both the actor and the gem.

I got the impression that the gem was the higher priority.

I also got the impression that I should have asked to see the money up front. If I got stiffed by a bunch of actors, I was going to feel like a pretty big fool. Which was another reason I was down here alone. It's bad to know you've been had; it's worse to have your friends point that fact out to you, morning, noon, and night.

"Are you sure this wizard really has him?" I had asked. It'd be embarrassing to confront the guy and later find out Haer'Dalis was shacked up across town with one of his many admirers. More diffidently, I added, "For that matter, are you sure he's still alive?"

"Mekrath makes no secret that he holds my dear sparrow caged," Raelis said. (Yes, she really talked that way.) "I sent my employee Biff to speak with him, to no avail."

"Biff?"

"The understudy." She beckoned to one of her players. It was the hangdog fellow who had made such a muff of Rodrigo's lines. "Tell our young savior here of what transpired in Mekrath's abode."

Young savior? Yikes. Biff colored and stammered out his story. Apparently he knew a fellow who knew a fellow who knew his way around the sewers pretty well. So he had hired this Roger the Fence to guide him to Mekrath's lair.

Roger the Fence? Now there was a name to inspire confidence.

"He led me to the wizard's home but once we got there, he made me turn out my pockets and took me for every copper I had!" Biff said indignantly. "And then he left me there! After I talked to the wizard, I had to find my own way out. Let me tell you, there are some nasty goons in the sewers. There's this gang that charges a toll and when they found out I didn't have any money…" His voice trailed off and he colored again. "They are very bad men, Miss Raelis! They did—very bad things to me."

"Yes, yes," Raelis said. "All great artists must suffer for their art. One day you will be grateful—but I digress. Please, Biff, tell Minette here about our sparrow."

"Haer'Dalis was there all right. I saw him. He was in some kind of trance or something. Mekrath said he was going to keep him for a pet. Said he liked his singing. When I told him to give Haer'Dalis back, he laughed at me! And when I told him he'd better do what I said or he was going to get in trouble, he…he took his staff and he _threatened_ me! And he said if I ever came back, he'd _thrash_ me. And I believe him! I'm not going back there, Miss Raelis. You don't know what he's like. It was terrible!"

"Yes, yes," she said soothingly and cast me a cool look. _You see what I have to deal with_, her eyes said.

"Did you ask the city guard for help?" I asked.

"Is it your experience that the city guards are helpful to transients?" she asked. "Not mine. I have traveled extensively and I have learned it is best to avoid the scrutiny of local authority."

Well, I couldn't disagree with that.

"But if this is some rogue wizard—this city hates spell-casters, you know. Surely…"

"As far as Athkatla is concerned, Mekrath is no rogue," she said drily. "He is licensed. He's paid off the Cowled Wizards and the guards won't touch him. No, we can expect no help from those in power. We are on our own."

Her words struck a chord. I, too, had been held by a mad wizard in his underground keep. No one had come to rescue me. I'd had to fight my way out. When the Cowled Wizards whisked both the wizard and Imoen away, the guards stood by and watched. And since I could not afford a license, the Cowled Wizards wouldn't even speak to me. I, too, was on my own.

So I set off to save the actor. And if, in the back of my mind, the prospect of looting the dungeon of a rich licensed wizard was a bigger motivation than recovering some unknown tiefling and earning Raelis's possibly fictional thousand gold pieces, well, I've never claimed to be a savior.

It didn't take me long to find Roger the Fence. _He's a bit strange_, I'd been told when I asked my fellow Shadow Thieves about him. _Lives down in the sewers and hardly ever comes out._ He had made himself a home where one of the old culverts had collapsed to form a shallow cave. This spot was close to the surface and the storm grates set along the road above us let in light. Eerie echoes from the wagons passing overhead rolled like thunder. Sometimes you could hear voices, distorted and disembodied like calls from another world.

I ghosted through the sewers as quiet as a little mouse in my soft soled boots. Thank the gods there hadn't been much rain lately. Walking through a dank sewer was bad but wading through one was much, much worse.

Roger's hideout was easy to find. All I had to do was follow the thieves' marks scratched into the walls. What they hadn't told me was how young he was. He fell somewhere between a lanky fourteen and a callow, pimpled twenty. I'd put my coin on the lower end of the range.

I found Roger bent down over a fire, stirring a kettle. He looked up and saw me, gasped and leapt to his feet, fumbling for his blade. Maybe I should have shuffled my feet or cleared my throat. I stepped backwards and held out my empty hands. When I made one of the guild signals, he took his hand off the hilt of his dagger and gave me a tentative smile.

"Something I can do for you, Miss?" he asked. "Come to look at my potions? You won't find better prices anywhere."

"Maybe but first I was wondering if you could tell me how to find the wizard Mekrath." His smile wavered. "You know him, right?"

"Aye, I know him. Makes me potions, he does. What business do you…say. It's nothing to do with that bonehead who was in here the other day, huh?" His smile was now gone. "Right mad Mekrath was about that. Don't need no wizard mad at me, now, do I? Got enough troubles down here without that."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," I said, opening my eyes wide and guileless. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I just want to meet the wizard."

"Why?"

It's hard to smile when you're gritting your teeth. Why was I having to justify myself to this dirty sewer boy? Because I didn't want to spend any longer searching these damned sewers than I had to. Instead of snarling, I smiled wider.

"Well, I'm something of a mage myself. But I'm new in town. The way those Cowled Wizards are, I can't find anyone to help me with my studies or even sell me the supplies I need. I wish to talk to Mekrath and see if we can work something out."

"You're a mage? Here now, I was taking you for a thief, I was." There was a hint of suspicion in his glassy gaze.

"Can't a girl be both?" He gave me a closer look, his eyes actually making it all the way up to my face this time.

"Say now. I'm thinking I've heard about you. You're that new one, the one who offed Mae'Var and took over his hall. Right? What's your name?"

"Minette."

"Minette, yeah, that sounds about right. You might not think I hear things down here. You'd be surprised. You're that Minette Bhaalspawn everyone's yakking about."

"My name is not 'Bhaalspawn'."

"Hey now, hey now, no need for frost. Don't get miffed. Don't mean nothing by it, do I? I don't care nothing about that old Time of Troubles stuff." He sidled a step closer. "Hear you dropped a great big fireball on old Mae'Var, fried him good."

"No, I'm the one with the invisibility spell who snuck up behind him and cut his throat. He was already dead before the fireball hit."

The fireballwas Edwin Odesseiron's contribution. Damned showoff. Edwin hadn't bothered to follow the plan or check I was clear before casting, which was why he wasn't traveling with me anymore. I'd had to paint on my eyebrows for a month after that little fiasco. If my spell protections hadn't held, I'd have been painting on my whole face.

"Yeah? Well, good on you. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. And speaking of invisibility potions, I can make you a real good deal on the best potions you've ever seen. Or not seen, if you catch my drift. Heh heh. No shimmering, no back images or shadows to give you away. Guaranteed or your money back."

I wondered just how many people, after a critical failure of an invisibility potion, would be in any condition to demand a refund.

"So this Mekrath does good work, does he?"

"The best."

"And he's hiding in the sewers because…" I let my eyebrows (now all nicely grown out) rise in a friendly question. But since Roger's eyes had been more or less centered on my breasts, I'm not sure he noticed.

"Oh, he ain't hiding down here. He likes it. He's opened up some of the ancient ruins under the city. He's not in that old buried temple where the nutcases who plucked their own eyes out live, but he's near it. Got things fixed up all nice and cozy. He came down here so he can work without being pestered by the Cowls or by people wanting potions and enchantments. That's why I handle some of his business for him, you see, since alchemy is just sort of a side line for him."

"What's his main line then?"

"His main line? Well, I don't rightly know, now do I? I'm guessing it's something to do with creatures from the planes and summoning and all. Reckon that's why he had that demon fellow come to visit, the one that bonehead was looking for. Mekrath don't have visitors all that often—not to stay, that is. Though some of them stay overnight. Heh heh."

He was staring at my tits so hard, I was beginning to wonder if he was trying to burn a hole through my shirt. He was fifteen all right. Sixteen tops.

"Got an eye for the ladies, does he?"

"The ladies, the gents—not sure it makes that much difference, from what I've seen. He's an elf and they'll swive anything, you know. Heh heh." Then he caught himself gossiping about his employer. Or maybe he noticed the points to my ears. "But I don't rightly know what's going on in there. That's just my mouth running, see? Don't pay me no mind."

"This demon fellow—the tiefling that's visiting—you've seen him? He's living there?" Roger was starting to look suspicious again. "If Mekrath already has an apprentice, I might be wasting my time looking for a position. You understand."

"Well, this fellow ain't no wizard, far as I can tell." He snickered. I wasn't sure what was so funny and it was fairly clear that he wasn't going to illuminate me.

"Oh. Good. So maybe you'll show me how to find him?"

"Don't know about that. Mekrath got right testy after that dolt showed up. Got short with me and that's a fact. Can't afford to make him too mad, now, can I?"

Since he found my breasts so engrossing, I threw back my shoulders a bit so he could get a better look. He gulped.

"Won't you help out a fellow guild member?" I tried not to overdo the wheedling tone. I hate that.

"Here's the thing, see, my dues ain't paid up so I'm not really in the guild anymore. Fact is, that's one of the reasons I'm down here. Some of the guild masters, like that pervert Mae'Var, get right nasty when you owe them coin." He thought for a moment. "Fact is, all of them do."

"I'm not like Mae'Var." I took a step forward. He was supposed to be looking at the sincerity in my eyes, not the little sway in my breasts, but whatever. Maybe I shouldn't have worn such a thin shirt. "If you do me this little favor, maybe I can fix things with the guild."

"Well…"

"Aw, come on, Roger." I moved in a little closer.

"Okay, then. Guess Mekrath won't get too steamed if a pretty lady drops by." And he gave me directions that I was fairly certain I'd be able to remember. "But listen," he said, once he'd finished scratching diagrams in the mud. "There's a couple of places down here where you gotta watch yourself. Goblins and carrion crawlers run wild in the lower reaches here and here sometimes." He pointed with his toe at his sketch.

"I can handle goblins and carrion crawlers." But I shuddered just a bit. Goblins are annoying but I hate those putrid crawlers with a passion. I still had a scar on my calf from one I'd run across in the sewers of Baldur's Gate.

"Yeah, well I expect you can. They're not that bad, really. The crawlers get plenty to eat down here so they're fat and lazy. But there's worse, see. There's Draug Fea's gang you gotta look out for."

"Who's Draug Fea?"

"He's a tough old dwarf that moved down here last year. He killed somebody up top, a guard maybe. I don't know. He's hanging around down here until it all blows over. He's going to charge you a toll for going through his part of the sewers. That's about here to here, see? Right close to Mekrath's place. If you're smart, you'll pay up."

I frowned. Did I look like I wanted to hand my hard-earned coin over to some smelly sewer squatter?

"And if I'm not smart?"

"You can try to sneak around him, I guess. But you're taking a big chance. He knows these sewers, see? You don't. If he catches you, he'll be pissed. And he's got some tough friends."

I had some tough friends too. They just didn't happen to be with me at the moment.

"Maybe I'd better get a couple of your invisibility potions, just in case."

Roger's face lit up. When he told me how much he wanted for them, I yelped.

"It's a fair price," he protested.

"Not if I can't afford it, it's not." I did have an invisibility spell memorized but I wanted to save it for getting Haer'Dalis out of the sewers. I assumed an actor knew a whole lot more about drawing attention than avoiding it.

I opened my eyes wide and gave Roger a hopeful look. "You're my guild brother, right? Can't you help me out?"

He stared at me a long moment and I could almost see the gears and cogs turning and meshing in his skull.

"I'll _give_ you a potion," he said on an inhale, "If you'll mumble mumble mumble."

"If I'll—what?"

"I'll give you a potion if you'll…" He took a shaky breath and let his words out in a rush. "If you'll showmeyourtits."

"What?!" Hells, I should have seen this one coming. "Are you serious?"

He bobbed his head. Sharess save me from over-sexed teens. That settled one question at least; he was fifteen. Any older and he would have asked for a blow job.

I could have tried intimidation. The problem is I just don't have the size or the presence to pull off a good intimidation. Being little and cute has its advantages but frankly I find it easier to kill someone than to scare them. And I've already seen what happens when you decide to kill everyone who opposes you. That was the way of my brother Sarevok. For one of my unique heritage, murder is a path that beckons and glows.

I'd play a thousand stupid games before I took that path.

"Let me see the potion first."

Roger shuffled over to a cabinet, casting me a couple of sideways looks as he did so, and pulled out a vial. I held out my hand. Instead of letting me hold it, he turned the narrow bottle so I could read the label. Untrusting little toad—actually, that made me think a little better of him. 'Invisibility' was written in tiny, precise letters. The liquid inside was reassuringly murky. If this wasn't genuine, I'd send a couple of the guild's bruisers down with clubs and attitudes and let them collect his back dues out of his hide.

My cheap laborer's shirt tied down the front. It probably would have been quicker to yank it up and give him a flash but I hate to cheap out on a deal. So I loosened the ties and slowly pulled my shirt open until my breasts spilled out.

Roger stared and stared. I wanted to tell him to blink before his eyeballs dried out. Finally he let out a long shuddering sigh. I think it was happiness.

"I didn't realize elf girls were so…so…so big."

And I'd forgotten human boys were so moronic. I wasn't that amazingly busty anyway; I have a small frame.

"I'm half-elven." Fool, if he'd looked at anything but my tits he could have figured that out. "Half human. Makes a difference."

"Yeah. Um. Could you…?" And he made a gesture. "You know."

"I don't." I scowled but he didn't get the hint.

"Could you, um, jiggle 'em? Please?"

_Sune and Sharess, you owe me one_. I sighed. I held out my hand for the potion, which he fumbled and almost dropped. Once it was safe in my pants pocket, I rolled my eyes (unnoticed) and then rolled my shoulders.

"Ah…" He blinked several times. Finally. "Thank you." He leaned toward me and I saw his hand twitch. "Could I…"

"No!"

What could be more fun than being pawed by a horny pimply teenager? Gouging out my eyes like those weird religious fanatics you saw preaching on every corner? Sheesh. I yanked the ties and closed up my shirt.


	3. Captivated

_Author's Note: Time to get down to the smut! I've toned this down from the explicit version, but you've been warned—it's still smutty! Comments would be greatly appreciated—I never can tell if the nitty-gritty is too much or not enough…_

**Chapter 3…Captivated**

I don't have cat eyes like a full blooded elf but my night vision is keen. I kept to the shadows and slunk through the foul sewers. I didn't see any goblins or crawlers but I passed a sleepy lookout tucked away in an alcove. I kept the potion handy but he never saw me.

Roger had warned me that the entrance to Mekrath's keep was hidden with illusion magic. I saw the telltale shimmer from the corner of my eye and walked right through an apparent stone wall. If I tripped an alarm spell, it was too subtle for me to spot. That left me with a bit of a dilemma—should I approach openly and risk getting turned away unheard? It sounded like this wizard was a testy fellow. Or should I sneak in, and trust to my skills to stay undetected?

I decided to try the straight-forward approach first. People get annoyed when you break into their house. Not that I was planning on getting caught, but you never know. Mages are tricky. Besides, I could always sneak back in later, once I'd checked out the layout.

I walked a narrow, twisting corridor, which left the sewers behind and cut through the earth like it followed a fissure. Someone had taken pains to make the path look natural—the artistically placed clumps of rare toadstools were a nice touch. A tiny pool fed by a dripping crystal stalactite held two miniature blind cave fish. I stood for a moment and watched them swim in endless circles. Luminous moss grew along the walls, again seeming to simulate nature but in a way more convenient to one's eyes.

If this was a sample of the wizard's work, I was in way over my head.

I kept an eye out for traps but saw none. One last twist of the tunnel, and I came to a black door. The door was neither large nor imposing but it glimmered with an abstract pattern formed by gold wire hammered into the wood. The pattern wasn't mere decoration—I could sense the protective ward built into the door itself. I raised my hand to knock and then had to step back as the door slowly swung on its hinges, opening in silent, ominous invitation.

I stepped inside. If this had been the bard's tale it was beginning to resemble, I would have been greeted by a djinni or perhaps a talking cat. There was no one in sight although I did have that itchy little feeling that I was being watched. A hidden familiar or a Wizard's Eye, perhaps, but I couldn't spot the source.

The entrance hall was small but did not feel crowded. The floor was inlaid wood; the walls were whitewashed stone. There was a rack where I could hang my cloak and a table where I could set my hat, had I happened to be wearing either. There was a picture on the wall, a line drawing of a man and a woman. The woman was leaning over the side of a well as if she was drawing a bucket of water and the man stood close behind her. There was something strange…I stepped closer to get a better look…oh, my. The man had pulled her skirt up to her waist and it didn't look like getting a drink of water was what was on his mind.

And that was certainly a unique use for a dipper.

I always thought men kept their erotic art in their bed chamber, not tacked up on the wall by the front door. I could tell this was going to be an interesting household.

The hall opened out into a large room, with bookshelves along one wall, a couple of armchairs and a couch upholstered in buttery leather. A plush and elegant carpet cried out for bare feet. (Before I stepped on it, I made a quick check of my boot soles for cleanliness.)

There were more of the blush-worthy drawings on the walls. Drawn by the same hand, I guessed. A half empty mug of tea sat on a table near one of the chairs next to an open book. No sign of the tea drinker but the mug was still warm. The book was a Netherese history. I would have liked to scan Mekrath's library but I was afraid that would prove to be far too distracting. He had a _lot_ of books.

Where was the wizard? He knew I was here. What kind of game was this? If he was trying to scare me, it wasn't going to work. Sure, my heart pounded and my mouth was dry but that wasn't fear. That was anticipation. Fear makes you stupid but anticipation keeps you sharp.

There were two open doorways in addition to the hall behind me. The left door led to what a quick peek told me was the living quarters. The right door led to what looked like a workroom. I turned right.

The mage lights studded in the ceiling of the workroom made it bright as day. A scarred wooden table sat in the middle of the room, with benches along one side and cabinets on the other. The benches were crowded with alchemical gear but there were no flames in the braziers, the sink was empty and the glassware—which shone with the clarity of master craftsmanship—was clean. His stillroom was well stocked.

I've never been in a position to think about settling down, much less do anything about it. But if I did, I wouldn't mind landing in such a well-feathered nest. Mekrath's home was cozy to the point of luxury and seemed to be equipped with everything an aspiring mage could want. I, who out of economy shared a cramped and drafty attic room of the Copper Coronet with three other women, felt a spasm of envy.

The continued silence started to stretch my nerves. I set my hand on the latch of the small wooden door at the end of the workroom. The door led to a small storeroom. After the brightness of the workroom, I had to blink to adjust to the dim light. There was a man in the corner reaching into a sack.

"Master Mekrath?" I asked softly. The man didn't answer. He didn't even turn to look at me. He pulled a cup of something out of the sack. I moved closer. It was rice. One by one, he took grains of rice out of the cup and dropped them into a small barrel by the wall.

Something about the man ruffled the hairs on the back of my neck. Partly this was his blank expression. I might have thought him one of the blind fanatics except that his eyes—lustrous dark eyes—appeared normal. His ears were pointed but he was human height and looked like no elf I'd ever seen. In fact, he gave me that same prickly uneasiness I'd felt from Raelis Shai. Surely this must be her missing actor.

"Are you Haer'Dalis?" I asked in a low voice. His head came up but he did not answer. There were strange markings on his face. "What are you doing?"

This, at least, was painfully obvious. He was counting the grains of rice. I waved my hand in front of his eyes. He blinked but made no other response. I put my hands on my hips and considered the situation. He was under a geas or perhaps a feeble-mind spell. I could try to dispel it but if Mekrath was a stronger wizard than I (and this seemed all too likely) then my spell would fail. I might even get caught in the backlash. The actor appeared to be clean and well-fed and in no immediate, desperate need for rescue. It would be smart to try other options before taking any action that would piss off the wizard.

A voice behind me made me jump.

"And who might you be?"

I had to swallow my racing heart before I could answer.

The elf in the doorway was about my height, with dark hair clubbed back to expose his long elegant ears. His expression blended curiosity with annoyance. His robe was made of opulent blue brocade, fastened with ivory toggles. The robe was hemmed to fall at calf level, I noticed with mild approval. So many wizards go for the floor-sweeping, dust-gathering length that tangles your feet and makes it impossible to show off your pretty shoes.

The elf's unlined face gave no clues to his age, of course, but his eyes were not youthful.

"Are you Master Mekrath?" I asked cautiously. "I, um, apologize for wandering about—the door was open." The man frowned. This seemed a natural expression for him.

"I asked for your name, not your apology."

"Oh, sorry." Whoops, another apology. The mage's stare made me nervous. "I'm Minette. Of Candlekeep." Maybe he'd take me for a scholar from the famous library. I tried out a smile. He didn't look impressed.

"And what is your purpose here, Minette of Candlekeep?"

Although I'm not a great believer in the adage that honesty is the best policy, I decided to give it a shot.

"I'm looking for Haer'Dalis, the actor." Mekrath—surely this was the man himself—gave me a hard look. "His friends are worried about him."

"You have found him and you may now assure his friends that he is in good health."

"I, er, was asked to return him, actually."

"Indeed."

"They need him for the play, you see." I gave him another smile and dropped my voice. "The understudy—I believe you've met him—is terrible! They're going to have to close the play if they don't get their leading man back."

Was that twitch of the lip the beginning of a smile?

"No doubt," he said. "But I'm afraid I must decline at this time. It amuses me to keep the thief awhile longer. Tell his friends to attend to the understudy's training instead of pestering me."

"Thief?" I asked. "I don't understand."

"Don't you?" I gave another guileless look. I hoped I wasn't overdoing it. "Then let me explain it to you. Your tiefling came here as my guest. And while I was occupied, he put his sticky fingers where they didn't belong. I found him caught in the petrification trap that guards my—one of my valuables."

"Oh, dear." Guileless, that was me. Very, very guileless. "I had no idea. The actors told me a different tale."

Mekrath snorted.

"And what did they tell you? That I had kidnapped him? The fool who blundered in here the other day said as much. Humph. I suppose it is possible they did not know the truth themselves. At any rate, I plan on keeping this inept thief until he repays me for his abuse of my hospitality."

I looked at Haer'Dalis, who had continued to count rice while we talked.

"How is he going to repay you if he remains in this state? Is this task he's doing so important then?"

Mekrath laughed.

"No, no, that's simply to give him something to do other than stand around like a statue."

"Then perhaps it would be possible for his friends to redeem the actor? How much would it take to release him from his debt?"

"You want to buy him off me?" Mekrath laughed again. "I have no interest in your gold, dear girl, if, indeed, you have any." He gave my clothes a disdainful look. "He has more satisfying ways to repay me, ways for which he is uniquely qualified. And yet…" His eyes narrowed. "You are no planar but I sense something…strange."

I froze.

There was a time when only the most perceptive of priests would give me that particular look. '_There's something strange about you', _that look said_. _Ever since I'd killed Sarevok deep in the Undercity of Baldur's Gate, I got that look more often. Something had changed. I guess it was me. At first I hadn't minded the double-takes, the whispers and the notoriety. In fact, I'd been flattered. I'd discounted Jaheira's warnings that my heritage could draw the attention of those who would use me for their own purposes. And then disaster had struck and I'd learned how horribly right she was.

Mekrath stepped closer and reached for my face with both hands, as if he would squeeze my cheeks. He didn't actually touch me but I flinched.

"Hey! Did I say you could grope my aura?"

"Such strong chaotic energies—what causes them, I wonder?" His expression had gone vague and he murmured to himself as if I was a horse he was considering purchasing. "Interesting and possibly of use. However the potential for unchecked disorder seems significant. Highly probable, in fact."

He walked around me and continued to mutter to himself. I suppressed the urge to whinny. Or kick.

"Her very presence could multiply the likelihood of critical failure by…how would one go about measuring this? An increase in catastrophic current events could suggest a trend…" He blinked and focused on me. His eyes widened. "The destruction at Waukeen's Promenade! By Corellon's blade, you're that Bhaalspawn the Helmites are so stirred up about! I hadn't heard you were _peredhel_."

_Peredhel_, I knew, meant half-elven.

He cocked his head and studied me, his eyes now bright with interest.

"And your access to the Weave—student of the arcane, are you? Tell me, Minette of Candlekeep, how does it feel to carry the blood of a dead god? Do you feel your quasi-divinity helps or hinders your spell-casting ability?"

"I'd be happy to discuss this at length," I lied through gritted teeth, "After you release Haer'Dalis."

"But it does not please me to release him yet. Yon tiefling is a most talented young man. Would you like a demonstration? Shall I show you how he may earn his freedom?"

The look he gave me—almost a leer, it was—made me distinctly uneasy.

"Talent?" I asked. "I thought he was an actor. Does he sing as well?"

"Oh, he can do much more than act. Or sing. His mother was a succubus, you know. This tiefling is a near-perfect subject for the study of tantrism. Haer'Dalis. Stop counting rice and come here."

"Yes, Master Mekrath."

The tiefling spoke in a monotone, but at least he could speak. So he must be under a geas of some sort and not a feeble-mind spell.

"On your knees."

"Yes, Master Mekrath."

Mekrath began unbuttoning his robe.

"Master Mekrath," I said. I was now _way_ past uneasy. You hear tales about tantric mages but I'd always thought sex magic was a myth concocted by lusty apprentices. "A demonstration is really quite unnecessary."

The wizard was wearing a shirt and leggings under his robe, not breeches, and when he pulled up the long tail of his shirt, his sex was laid bare for any to see.

"Haer'Dalis, do you know what I want from you?"

"Yes, Master Mekrath."

"Then proceed."

Mekrath's look made it clear he was testing me but if this was a test of my maidenly sensibilities, I failed. I had none. When you work in the Docks, you come across sailors getting blow jobs in every back alley. Sometimes when a ship had just come in, you'd see them standing around with their pants open, queued up for the same poor working girl. So instead of swooning or screaming, I watched. I told myself I was looking for clues to how to release Haer'Dalis.

The tiefling took Mekrath in hand and bent over him. The liquid sounds that followed made me squirm. I hated to admit that I was getting aroused myself.

Mekrath turned his head and gave me a long knowing look.

"I take it he is under a geas of obedience." My voice came out more breathlessly than I'd like. How in the Nine Hells was I going to dispel a geas? "That must take quite a bit of power to maintain."

"You might think so."

He put one hand on the tiefling's head and rocked his hips. Haer'Dalis showed no sign of discomfort. Mekrath was right; he was talented. The wizard's breathing was heavier. So was mine.

"There's a trick to this, you see. If he was unwilling, I'd be fighting him, my power against his. But since he had already performed this exact same service of his own accord before I enspelled him, he has no conflict under the geas."

Mekrath pulled back a little and sighed.

"There's another trick and it's a good one," the wizard said. "I use the energy from the sex itself to power the spell. Come closer."

I wasn't sure what he wanted but, as if under a geas myself, I stepped in closer. He reached for my hand. His fingers closed around my wrist.

"Can you feel the flow of power? Concentrate."

He pulled me even closer. My hip brushed against the tiefling's shoulder. Mekrath's eyelids drooped and then I felt a tingling in my hand. How was I supposed to concentrate on the Weave when—Mystra help me!

Have you ever lain on the beach, half asleep, and had a wave come out of nowhere and soak you to the skin? Well, this was like that, but the water wasn't cold, it was scalding hot. For a moment, I thought I'd been caught in the wizard's spell. Mekrath wasn't siphoning power from the Weave; it flowed through him and back out. I could feel the spill of the back-power curl up my spine. It felt _amazing_. I had already been aroused; now I was frantic.

"How do you _do_ that?" I gasped.

Mekrath grinned at me and then he began thrusting in earnest. The tiefling closed his eyes. I could feel the mage's pleasure like it was my own. By the time Mekrath came with a low shout of triumph, I was shaking all over. My underpants were soaked.

"Would you like to learn how that spell works?" His voice was a low purr. I didn't answer—I couldn't—but he smiled as if I'd agreed.

"Come," he said. "Let us get more comfortable."

Haer'Dalis and I both followed the wizard into his sitting room. Mekrath continued to hold my hand. But we didn't stop there. We stopped in his bed chamber where green draperies fell in a silken cascade around the bed to make a luxurious mossy cave. This would have been a good time to voice an objection but I felt as dazed as the tiefling looked.

"I believe we should begin by divesting you of those noisome garments," Mekrath said. Oh, yikes, I'd almost forgotten I was in my beggar's clothes.

"Sorry. I dressed for the sewers."

"Of course." He faced me, took my breasts in his hands. I could feel the warmth of his hands through the thin cloth. His thumbs rubbed over my aching nipples. When he began to loosen the ties, I let him. His lips twitched upward. At a gesture, Haer'Dalis knelt before me and began unlacing my low boots. I raised my arms so Mekrath could pull my shirt over my head. I stepped out of my boots. And then Haer'Dalis loosened the tie to my breeches and I realized now was the time to object.

My lips parted. My breeches dropped. Haer'Dalis rubbed his face against my crotch like a cat marking his territory.

"Ah…"

Before I could come up with anything coherent, I was chivvied backward. I bumped into the bed. And then I was on it. Mekrath lay down beside me, and propped himself up on one arm. Haer'Dalis pulled my underpants down. The wizard put his hand between my legs.

"So nice and wet," he murmured. "Can you feel the energy building?"

His fingers entered me and I opened my legs a bit further. Something was building all right and I was really, really looking forward to this particular energy getting discharged.

"In the Weave," he insisted. "Open yourself to the Weave. Don't get distracted by your body."

Don't get distracted? When a total stranger had a couple of fingers in me, I was supposed to be concentrating on his words? And speaking of strangers, where was Haer'Dalis? Standing by the bed, apparently waiting for instructions of his own. Did he feel anything at all—violation, pleasure, indifference? I couldn't tell. His face was blank but his eyes—his eyes were glowing in the dim light. As I looked closer, I fancied I saw a faint nimbus of power shimmering around his form. Did this have something to do with the geas laid upon him or did it have something to do with being a tiefling?

Open myself to the Weave, huh? The Weave was around us all the time, warm like sunlight on a still day, always there for a mage to draw upon. I shuttered my eyes almost closed and concentrated.

There was a very warm hand on my knee. My eyes flew open. Haer'Dalis was crawling onto the bed. His hand slid up my thigh. And then I felt his breath against my hip. His hands slid up under my buttocks. His face came down. I hoped he wasn't unwilling to do this for my need was appalling.

"Oh, gods," I moaned as his lips began their exploration. His tongue, his lips were feverishly hot. Almost involuntarily, my face turned towards Mekrath.

"He has fiend's blood," he said in a conversational tone. His face however was almost as flushed as mine no doubt was. Was he feeling my arousal as I'd felt his? "Tieflings' bodies are warmer than ours. His mouth is like liquid fire, but a most delicious conflagration…it is an extraordinary sensation, is it not?"

"Extraordinary," I gasped. "Oh, yes."

"Slow down, my songbird," Mekrath said. "We don't wish to rush the lesson."

Haer'Dalis pulled away and began kissing and licking my inner thigh. The lesson? Oh, yes. The tiefling's submission—what compelled it? The connection between the two men—what allowed it? Mekrath was strong. I could see the Weave ripple around him, obedient to his wishes as the tiefling was obedient. Yet Haer'Dalis had power of his own. The Weave clung to him as well and I didn't think it was solely due to his planar origins.

"A spellcaster," I murmured. "The actor is a spellcaster too."

"Very good. And why is that important?"

Why was that important? Haer'Dalis bit down hard enough to make me arch my back. If the tiefling was a spellcaster, why was that important? Because spellcasters cast spells, of course.

"He cast a spell on you," I guessed.

"What a clever girl you are. He attempted to manipulate me. Me!"

If Haer'Dalis had really come here as Mekrath's guest, why had he done that? Mekrath's story wasn't making sense yet he didn't strike me as either malicious or mad. At this point, however, I didn't trust myself to make sense out of anything. If I could just get Haer'Dalis out of here, we could sort things out later.

"By casting his spell, he opened himself to me."

And speaking of open, the tiefling's tongue was back where I really wanted it to be. Mekrath stroked his hair and smiled.

"The first to attack exposes his own defenses," he said. "Unless your initial attack is overwhelming, the advantage lies with the counter-attack."

That didn't sound right. I was partial to the surprise attack myself but I really wasn't up for a philosophical debate. Mekrath pushed back his robe. Despite his earlier activity, he looked ready for another round in the fighting pit.

"Enough," he told Haer'Dalis and gave his hair a tug for emphasis. The tiefling, who had been half-kneeling between my legs, pulled himself up beside me on the bed. He was still fully clothed but his breeches were stretched tight over what looked to be a massive erection.

"Take my robe, songbird," Mekrath said. Haer'Dalis rose and helped the wizard slip out of his robe. He stripped out of his shirt and leggings as well. "And take off your own clothes while you're at it."

The tiefling hung the wizard's clothes over a chair and then stripped. Oh, my. His skin markings (I couldn't tell if they were natural or tattoos or even ritual scars) didn't stop at his face. His arms and chest were marked as well. Haer'Dalis had the tough wiry build I'd expect from a fighter, not an actor. Although I supposed the two roles weren't as radically different as I first thought. And the tiefling was fully aroused. When he turned I saw his back and buttocks were decorated. He came back to the bed and stood before us, waiting for direction.

"Oh, the possibilities," Mekrath said. No kidding. I was on fire thinking about them. "How would you like to indulge yourself?"

Well, that was a tough question. When Haer'Dalis crawled onto the bed, I stared at him with hungry eyes. Mekrath lay next to the tiefling, with a satisfied smile on his face. I didn't bother with any build up. I crouched over Haer'Dalis and took him into my mouth.

He had an odd smell and taste; not unpleasant, just odd, like hot steel in a forge. He was big; this was going to be a challenge.

"I take it you've done this before." Mekrath sounded pleased.

"Mmm."

Hells, this had been my introduction to sex. It didn't seem that long ago that I was young and (relatively) naïve. I'd hooked up with an elf named Coran who had taught me most of what I knew about sneaking and trapping and putting my fingers where they didn't belong. And many a late night while he was standing watch over our camp, I'd be before him with my knees in the damp leaves and his hands twined in my hair. He loved the thrill of doing this within sight of the camp, where the slightest noise would give us both away. He'd draw it out as long as possible. Added to the excitement, he said.

Mekrath's hand slid between my legs. His fingers played delicately while he watched me working over Haer'Dalis.

"You may come when you please," he said. I thought he was talking to me but the tiefling's hands went to my head and I felt him stiffen. Sweet Sune, he needed permission for this? That was some geas. Thanks for the warning, wizard. Haer'Dalis groaned. When he was done, Mekrath rolled me over flat on the bed and kissed me for the first time. His tongue probed my mouth.

I opened for him. He slid right in (oh, gods, I was wet) and held there; I shuddered and started to come right away.

"Oh, no you don't," he said and pulled out. "Not yet."

"Not yet? Why not? I'm a woman. I can do it again." And again. It was going to take at least three orgasms to empty me out.

He laughed.

"That is not the point. This is a lesson, remember?"

"I don't recall signing up for lessons. I'm here for Haer'Dalis, remember?"

"If you wish to negotiate for the tiefling, you must restrain yourself. Are you willing to take his place?"

"His place?" I asked cautiously. "What do you mean? I'm certainly not going to let you put a geas on me. I've got better things to do than stand around counting rice."

"I will not put a geas on you."

He seemed a little too eager. What was the catch? Was the spell about to wear off anyway? Did he want me to do something he couldn't force out of Haer'Dalis? Or was the lure of my god's blood really that strong?

"Damn right you won't," I said. "What do you want from me? If you're looking for an apprentice—fine, we might work something out. If you're looking for a sex slave, forget it. And I won't do anything too nefarious."

He laughed.

"Nefarious? No, no. I need an assistant of sorts. I thought perhaps the tiefling would be of use but his power, fascinating as it is, differs too much from mine. And in all fairness, I can't hold him here forever."

"I might be interested," I said, "If you make it worth my while." His thumb rubbed a very sensitive area and for a moment, I lost my train of thought. "I've got to warn you though—I can't afford a license from the Cowled Wizards. So I can't get caught doing any magic."

Mekrath laughed.

"For a girl of your talents, getting a license is a simple matter. I can arrange this."

It took a bit more negotiation (and an orgasm or two) but we came to an agreement. Haer'Dalis was released from his geas; I was free to come and go as I pleased. I would help Mekrath with his 'research' and he would tutor me in the Art. Best of all, he would set me up with Corneil, the Cowled Wizard in charge of licensing mages. Five thousand gold was the ridiculous sum the Cowled Wizards demanded for their permit but (Mekrath claimed) if I made a good enough impression on Corneil, I could get it for free.


	4. A Needful Document

_Author's Note: I'll bet Elminster never had days like this._

**Chapter 4…A Needful Document**

Mekrath had hustled Haer'Dalis out the door while I was sleeping, before I'd had a chance to talk to him in private. I woke groggy and dull-witted. The wizard, curse him, positively bubbled with energy. I wondered if he'd stolen it from me like an incubus.

I knew he hadn't. I was just sleepy, grumpy, more than a little sore and in desperate need of a bath. Haer'Dalis, once released from his geas, hadn't been in a rush to escape and, well, the evening had been packed with adventure, as they say.

Besides, I've never been a morning person even when I get enough sleep. Mekrath's cheerful chirping rubbed on my nerves.

He quizzed me on my spell knowledge over breakfast and told me to bring my spell book so he could check it over. Oh boy, didn't that sound fun? Thank Mystra I'd left it at the Copper Coronet or he would have started drilling me right away. While I was busy memorizing the spell to pass through his wards (so I could come and go if he was out), one of his pet mephits flew into the room with a message.

"Ah, very good," Mekrath said, once he'd read the slip of paper. "Corneil has agreed to meet you tonight."

"So soon?"

I hadn't had time to decide if I was nervous about this or not. I hadn't confided my interest in the Cowled Wizards to Mekrath but his attitude had made it clear that he considered Corneil to be a very minor official. There probably wasn't much chance he would know anything about Imoen or where his colleagues had taken her.

Mekrath waved his hand in an ambiguous gesture then started coaching me.

"Wear something alluring," Mekrath said. "But act demure. I don't know if you've ever noticed this but your constant and incessant mouthiness is not to everyone's taste." I made a face but he wasn't done. "Corneil's a little kinky but he won't tolerate backtalk, especially from a young woman. Play along and you'll have that license in your pocket by tomorrow morning."

"Kinky?" I asked. "How kinky?" What in the Nine Hells would Mekrath consider kinky, anyway?

"Do you object to pain?"

"Of course I object to pain. What kind of stupid question is that?"

"Have you never noticed that weak men are the likeliest to play dominance games?"

"No, I haven't." But come to think of it, how many weak men did I know? "What kind of dominance games?"

"Oh, he might want to spank you, something like that. Do you think you could pretend to be cowed, maybe work up a few tears?"

All I'd have to do was think of the five thousand pieces of gold the Cowled Wizards wanted to charge me for my mage's license and my tears would flow like rain.

When I returned to the Copper Coronet, I slipped up the back stairs to avoid any barrage of questions. Unfortunately I passed Jaheira on the stairs. She sniffed, and then narrowed her eyes into one of her disapproving looks. Gods, could she smell sex on me even after I'd bathed at Mekrath's place? Sheesh, it's hard to hide anything from a druid.

But she didn't give me a lecture, just told me I'd had a message from my guild house and it sounded urgent. I didn't take that too seriously because all their messages sounded urgent. Half the time the big crisis consisted of settling a squabble more appropriate for a nursery than a thieves' guild.

Jaheira had strongly disapproved of me taking control of Mae'Var's operation. Her frown deepened. I'd have to go see what they wanted—but first I needed a nap.

I hadn't planned to sleep so long. By the time I woke, I barely had time to get ready for my 'interview'.

I met Mekrath at one of the big plazas in the Gem District. Alluring but demure was a strange combination; I wore my low cut silk dress with a shawl pinned over it. I'd borrowed the shawl from Nalia. It looked like something my grandmother would have knitted if I'd had a grandmother, which I didn't.

"Perfect," Mekrath said with a low laugh. That was after he hooked a finger through the shawl and pulled it down so he could ogle my cleavage. Pervert. "But let me do something with your hair."

I thought wearing it loose would look sweet and modest but he tied it back for me.

"Let's show off those ears. Elves are rare in Athkatla. I'm sure he'll find even a half-breed like you exotic," he said. "And there's something about a bouncing pony tail that's hard to resist." He eyed me with satisfaction. "Now you look like a naughty schoolgirl. I'm tempted to pull you over my knee and give you a good spanking myself."

"Lay a hand on my ass and you'll pull back a stump."

"Ah, ah," he admonished. "Demure, remember?" He gave me a long frowning look. "If you speak like that to Corneil, my patronage cannot save you from the wrath of the Cowled Wizards. Individually they may be fools, but collectively, they are a power in this city. You would do well to remember that."

"Yeah, yeah, I remember."

"I'm serious. If you decide to play this game, you're committed to seeing it through, even if that means holding your tongue for once."

"I'm committed."

And I was. I'd heard horror tales of what happened to unlicensed mages in this town. Not being allowed to cast so much as a cantrip was getting to be more than an inconvenience. If I walked out of a back-alley ambush with a Stoneskin still up, I could end up wherever Imoen was now. And then how would I save her?

"Are you certain? Even if the situation becomes…unpleasant?"

"I'm certain, I'm certain. Stop nagging me."

We met the Cowled Wizard at his home. The house itself was modest in size but its location, right on the fringes of the Gem District, was a desirable one. Corneil met us at the door.

At first glance, the furnishings impressed the eye with their richness. Second glance revealed the fact that the carpets and lamps were Amnish knockoffs of their more valuable originals. Still, a good knockoff wasn't dirt cheap. The mage must be reasonably prosperous.

Of course, robbing the guy I was seeking a favor from was probably a bad idea. Still, if I saw anything choice, maybe I could send one of the thieves from my guild house over to collect it later.

"It is my servant's day off," Corneil said, as if he needed to apologize for opening his own front door. "Mekrath, it's good to see you." He then looked down at me and raised his brows.

"This is Minette of Candlekeep. She is my protégé." He gave the last word a bit of emphasis and I fancied the two men exchanged a conspirator's glance. Quickly I dropped my eyes before Corneil could catch me peeking. The two talked over my head as I stood there, as demure as all get out. I felt smug about my acting ability. Maybe I could sign on with the Sigil Troupe when this was over.

Mekrath spun his tale about how I was new to Athkatla and unfamiliar with the city's ways, how impressed I had been with the power of the Cowled Wizards and how in need I was of a strong guiding hand. I thought he was laying it on a bit thick but Corneil swallowed it all. Wasn't this just a bit too easy? I opened myself to the Weave.

Ah. I hadn't even noticed Mekrath's spell of charm and persuasiveness, subtle as it was. It was woven into his very breath. Damn, he was good.

"And so it occurred to me that you might be willing to instruct my young student and prepare her to earn her practitioner's license. You know so much more than I do of the ways of our world, old friend."

"Why, certainly," Corneil said. "I'm always happy to set the feet of an aspiring mage on the right and proper path."

"Then I will leave her in your capable hands," Mekrath murmured. "Obey Master Corneil with all diligence," he said without even a wink or a smile. Then he was gone.

Corneil was a thin and tall human with a slight stoop. He was about fifty, I guessed, but with wizards it was sometimes hard to tell. His hair was cut short and his beard was carefully tended. He wore a traditional wizard's robe but at least he didn't affect the pointy hat, a fashion that hadn't caught on in mage-hating Amn. He wasn't a bad-looking man but his face had the pinched look I associated with misers and constipation.

"Well, now, girl. Minette, is it? What should I do with you, I wonder?" I peeped up at him. "Come, pour us some wine and let us converse a bit." I followed him into his sitting room. He gestured to the decanter and then took a seat on the couch. I poured two glasses and gave him the full one.

"So, tell me, what leads a pretty little thing like you to the study of the arcane? The work is hard and exacting."

So I could Fireball my enemies into greasy spots, of course. Was there any other reason?

"I have always wanted to serve a great and mighty wizard," I said. Demurely.

"To serve is a great honor. Mekrath—is he a harsh taskmaster? These elves—well, one never knows."

Ah, so Corneil was a racist as well as a misogynist. And kinky. Let's not forget kinky. Oh, boy. How best to answer this?

"He is fair. Sometimes I struggle with my lessons and then he is forced to correct me." I gave him what I hoped was a shy look, to see how he was taking this nonsense. Well enough, it seemed. He looked pleased.

"Yes, I have found with my own apprentices that a firm hand is kindest in the long run. If you wish a mage's life, you must first and foremost learn discipline. Discipline and obedience—they are crucial to your future. Do you understand me, young Minette?"

"Yes, sir. I think so, sir."

"We shall see. I think perhaps this is a good time for me to test you a little and see how you are coming along in your lessons."

I wondered if he had any idea the sort of 'lessons' I'd been receiving from Mekrath. This could be interesting.

He started out by asking me questions any first year apprentice ought to be able to answer. Since Mekrath had claimed me as his student, I didn't see any point in acting like a dunce. I answered correctly, although with a soft voice and a bit of hesitation in my words. I also fiddled with the fringe on my shawl and managed to pull it down in front enough to give him a hint of the cut of my gown. He noticed.

He had me stand and demonstrate the hand movements and positions for several common spells. Again, I saw no point in feigning incompetence. He stood beside me and made a couple of unnecessary corrections to my stance or gestures, all of which required putting his hands on me.

"Take off your wrap," he said. "It seems to be interfering with your free movement."

"Thank you, sir," I murmured. "It is warm in here, isn't it?" I unpinned my shawl and laid it on the arm of the sofa. I leaned forward a bit to improve the show.

"Do you think it's possible, sir, that I will be able to earn my mage's license?" I asked breathlessly. "It's so important to me. I'd do…I'd do anything you wished to prove my…my dedication."

Corneil gave me a hard look. For a moment I thought I'd rushed things. Then he smiled—a cold thin smile. He put his hand on my shoulder. Then, watching my face, he let his fingers run along the edge of my bodice, down, down, over the tops of my breasts. I lowered my eyes and then shifted slightly, pressing against him.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. _I need this license_, I told myself. _It could save my life one day_.

He cupped my breast in his hand and gave it a squeeze. Not a gentle squeeze, either.

"An aspiring mage must be discreet as well as obedient," he said.

He tugged at my dress (and I hoped to hell he didn't rip the silk) until both my breasts spilled out the top. He then kneaded and rubbed them, squeezing and pinching with deliberate roughness.

"You like this," he said. "Don't you, girl?" When I didn't answer, he grabbed my ponytail and yanked my head back. I gave a fearful nod. He laughed. "I thought so. I've heard stories about Mekrath's little sluts."

With his fingers twined in my hair, he pushed and jerked me through the house to his bedchamber. Like the rest of the house, the room was very neat and clean. I thought he'd ask me to strip but he gave me a push and a shove so that I was bent down over the high platform bed.

"Pull up your skirt," he said. "Let me see what you wear under that whorish dress."

I raised the skirt of my gown until it was bunched up around my waist. At Mekrath's suggestion, I was wearing nothing but air and my flat sandals underneath the silk.

"I thought as much," he said with satisfaction. I heard him moving around behind me but I couldn't tell what he was doing. He opened the wardrobe door and then shut it again. He must have taken something out. I very much wanted to know what.

"I expect you're a lazy girl," he said. "You'd rather spread your legs for every boy you meet than apply yourself to your lessons. Is that right?"

I mumbled something that could be taken for an apology. A burning slash across my buttocks made me jump and cry out. When I twisted to see what he'd done, he hit me again.

"Did I ask you to speak?" He moved to the end of the bed so I could see the leather belt dangling from his hand. "What you need is a good strapping. Isn't that right?"

If I wasn't to speak, just how was I supposed to answer? I stared at him with wide eyes. I felt very exposed with my ass poked up in the air. He pushed my dress up further. And then the belt came whistling down.

I figured he'd give me a token slap or two and then we'd get down to the nitty-gritty. I figured wrong. He waled away like he was trying to drive me through the bed. I was quiet for the first few blows and then I began to whimper and cry out. I twisted, trying to avoid the lash of the leather but my tiny move of escape seemed to excite him into a frenzy. My poor abused rear burned like fire and the tears in my voice were only partially feigned when I begged him to stop, please stop.

Pain is always worse when you can't hit back.

At last, it ended. I think his arm got tired. He took my burning cheeks in his hands and gave them a squeeze.

"Now this is what I like to see," he said. His breathing was heavy and I didn't think it was solely from his exertion. He rubbed his fingers across the welts he had raised. "If I had it my way, girls like you would have to take all their meals standing up." He gave my ass a stinging slap with his open palm.

"You may thank me now."

"Thank you, Master Corneil," I mumbled. I kept my eyes downcast to hide my not-so-demure fury.

"Oh, get up, girl," he said. I stood and straightened my gown. "You may go. Tell your master I'll send him your license in the morning." He gave me a hard look. "It is provisional, of course, on your continued good behavior. Tell him he may send you back to me anytime he feels you need a little additional motivation to keep you at your studies."

I dropped a curtsey and fled the house. Five thousand gold, I told myself. I did this for five thousand gold. I supposed it was worth it. But that damned Mekrath owed me big time for setting me up for this.

Mekrath laughed at my curses but his fingers were tender as he rubbed cool salve into my welts.

"Poor honey," he said. I scowled. "Shall I tell you Corneil's dirty little secret?" His eyes shone with mischief.

"You'd better," I grumbled.

"He never undressed before you, did he? Never slipped you the serpent at all, eh? Never even rubbed up against you, I dare say. There's a reason for that."

"Spill it." I leaned across the bed in a position uncomfortably reminiscent of the one I'd just endured. I could feel the welts and soreness disappear almost immediately but now Mekrath's clever fingers were rubbing salve in a spot where the belt hadn't touched. Oh, no, not that again. I'd told him I wasn't interested in that particular delight but he was damned persistent. I turned my head to give him a frown.

"Corneil had an unfortunate accident while trying to combine enlargement and permanency spells. His spell misfired disastrously and he hasn't managed to find anyone capable of dispelling it. Ha, ha."

"I assume he wasn't trying to enlarge his brain."

"You assume correctly. Corneil's serpent is now the size of a worm. He doesn't dare go to any of his brothers in cowls for aid, lest he lose his own standing. Such personal enhancement magics being forbidden, you see. So if he's a tad bitter, you can hardly blame him. Eh?"


	5. A Shopping Trip

_Author's Note: I really had fun with this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it, Dear Reader. Be warned, though, that the smut continues. Feedback would be most appreciated._

**Chapter 5…A Shopping Trip**

I trudged back into Mekrath's lair tired, dirty, and foul of temper. Mekrath had given me a fat purse and a long shopping list and told me to make myself useful. I should have realized when he offered me alchemy lessons, without my having to prod or pester him, that there was a catch.

Gods, I am such a lack-wit.

Most of the oils, essences and herbs weren't hard to find, except for the vexation of trotting to six different vendors. Two of them spoke some strange Amnish dialect I could barely make out. One creepy old lady got pissed the third time I asked her to repeat herself and I'm sure she overcharged me. Well, overcharged Mekrath, heh heh.

Finding the metal shavings and gemstones of the proper size and color required even more legwork, although visiting jewelers to poke through their reject bins and trays of uncut stones was rather fun. Juggling the basket of duck eggs without breaking any (well, not too many) was aggravating. By the time I realized I should have hired a porter, it was too late to bother with one.

Then I had to trudge all the way to the docks to find a Shadow Thief who would give me a decent price on a bit of black lotus. If I found out Mekrath wanted this for recreational usage instead of potion-making, I was going to do something nefarious.

On top of everything else, I had to slog through countless leagues of stinking sewers to hunt a carrion crawler for its blood. And just as I'd finally cornered one, the damned thing oozed through a crack so narrow that I couldn't squeeze in after it. It took forever to find another.

And that wasn't even the worst thing that happened.

Mekrath was lounging in his sitting room when I stormed in. He had his feet propped up on a stool and a bottle of ale at his elbow. He looked up from his book when I slammed the door behind me.

"I hope you're not planning on sitting on my cushions until you've changed clothes." The carrion crawler had slimed me good. The glare I gave the mage should have blistered the whitewash off the wall but he merely raised his eyebrows. "Get everything?"

"Yes!" I barely kept myself from slamming my pack on the table. Since it was full of breakables that I'd have to clean up and replace, that didn't seem wise. I set it gently on the floor instead.

"Where are the eggs?"

I glared harder.

"And here I thought all girls loved to go shopping."

"Rrrr…" I ground my teeth. It felt like my eyeballs were on fire.

"Whoa! Rein it in there, Bhaalspawn, and tell me what's wrong."

I hoped my eyes weren't doing that Sarevok thing again.

"Mekrath! You've got to do something about Draug Fea and the lowlifes who follow him or I swear that I will!"

"Hey now, don't slaughter my outer defenses."

"Your _what_? Damn it, Mekrath, don't tell me you're encouraging those outlaws to hang around."

"Of course I am. They help keep some of the riffraff out. Not only do I not have to fork over a single copper for the service, they actually give _me_ a share of their take."

"You're getting tribute from those idiots? You twisty little…" Actually, I kind of admired him. Not that I'd tell _him_ that.

"Why so irate? They didn't pester you, did they? I specifically told them you were under my protection."

"Rrrrr…"

Mekrath was alarmed enough to set his book aside.

"And what exactly did you tell them?" I asked, once my voice was under control.

"Well…"

"Did you happen to mention anything of a personal nature about me? Anything at all?"

"And violate the master/apprentice relationship? Certainly not."

"Indeed. So it must have been some _other_ mage who said his new apprentice was like an illithid who sucks men's brains out through their 'serpent' instead of their nose."

"Well…"

"And I suppose it was some other mage who made disparaging comments about my breasts."

"Disparaging comments? My dear girl, you should watch this little tendency towards hyper-sensitivity; it could become quite a character flaw. Your breasts may be unexpectedly human in appearance on an otherwise reasonably graceful elven frame but that shouldn't be taken as a slur. You should learn to be happy with the hand fate has dealt you. I think your breasts are charming, especially the way they jiggle when you're upset."

My hand, in a totally involuntary motion, settled on the hilt of my dagger. I took a breath and clasped my hands behind my back. I was almost certain I'd lose my mage's license if I dismembered my master.

"And I suppose it never occurred to you, while you were 'not' violating the master/apprentice relationship, that those delightful outlaw friends of yours might demand a sample of my so-called charms? That _each _of them might demand a sample? That they might consider themselves _entitled_ to such?"

"Oh, dear."

"OH, DEAR? Is that all you have to say?"

"Sorry?"

"That's not nearly good enough."

"Were you obliged to…ahem…come across with the goods?"

My lip curled up in a sneer.

"I told them you'd taught me a spell to make men's 'serpents' wither and die." Mekrath looked relieved. I could feel my glare intensify. "Your pal Draug Fea replied that if he gagged me with his, I couldn't cast any spells. Do you know how low to the ground you have to get to give a dwarf a blow job?"

"Oh, dear. Er, sorry."

"There was no way I was going to lay down in that dirty sewer. So I jabbed my dagger into his balls, and while he was hollering about that, I ran off. But in the process, I dropped the basket of duck eggs. Feel free to go fetch them yourself. If any survived, which I doubt."

"Pity, but that's not a big problem. They were for breakfast. I suppose you can make toast instead and fry up the rest of the ham."

"Rrrr…"

"Ah, what I meant to say was, how can I make this up to you?"

"You can start by drawing me a bath."

"Certainly, I'd be delighted."

When he first took over his keep in the ruins, Mekrath had hired a team of gnomish plumbers to pipe in fresh water and to install one of the fanciest indoor privies I'd ever seen. He also had a work gang of half-tamed mephits to heat the bathwater for his huge tub, so this wasn't as impressive an offer as it might have sounded. Still, it was a start.

The hot bath, clean clothes and the big mug of wine Mekrath had thoughtfully left for me in the bathing chamber went a long way towards improving my mood. He didn't even hang around to watch me in the tub, which was good, for I definitely wasn't in the mood for that kind of nonsense. But he wasn't off the hook yet.

"I've got another bone to pick with you," I informed him. He was back in his chair, with a different book this time. I curled up on the couch and started cleaning my weapons. No, I don't usually oil my blades in the sitting room. I was being subtle and menacing.

"Pick away."

Generous permission, as if I needed it.

"It's about Haer'Dalis. I saw him today."

"Yes? How's the play going?"

"Very funny."

"They're doing a comedy now? That would make a pleasant change from that dreary melodrama they've been performing."

I gave him a look.

"Oh, you mean me. When I attempt humor, I'll be sure to inform you first so you can laugh at the appropriate bits. That was merely a polite query. What, Haer'Dalis is not holding a grudge, is he? I don't think he has much to complain about. I didn't do anything to him that he didn't do to me first. Much."

"You'll have to ask him about that. But listen, don't you think the prank has gone on long enough?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I know you're pissed about what he did, but you can hardly blame him for trying."

"I can and I do."

"But it's not just about him, you know. Raelis and the rest of the troupe are really upset. No, that's not the word. They're scared. Someone's after them, Mekrath."

"I had no idea acting was such a perilous profession. Is it a crime in Amn to foist bad drama on an unsuspecting audience? Or did they rough up a critic in some back alley?"

"It's not funny. Haer'Dalis told me they've got a bounty on their heads and they're being hunted across the planes."

"Too bad. Guess they'll be moving on then."

"That's all you've got to say? Don't you think it's time you gave them their gem back?"

Mekrath (who had still been reading while I tried to talk to him, the cur) let his book drop into his lap.

"_Their_ gem?"

"The gem you took from them. The gem that lets them travel the planes. When are you going to give it back, Mekrath?"

"My dear girl, you are under a misapprehension. That gem is mine. It was always mine. It will always _be_ mine, if I have any say in the matter. Haer'Dalis sought me out and tried to buy it from me. As if I'd sell a planar gem! Do you have any idea how rare they are or what I had to do to obtain this one?"

Judging by the tieflings' desperation, I had a fair idea of the rarity, at least.

"When I refused to sell it, he tried to seduce it off me. How do you think he ended up in my bed? Did you think I pursued him?"

Actually, that was exactly what Raelis Shai had told me when she sent me here in the first place.

"When seduction didn't work, he tried to steal it. And fell afoul of my traps. I still don't know why I allowed you to talk me into releasing him."

I think the look he shot me was meant to intimidate. I don't intimidate all that easily anymore. Once you've faced up to Sarevok, everyone else is pretty much downhill, with a few exceptions.

"I must be getting soft," he muttered. "Should have kept you both or thrown you both out. Thieves and trespassers. Why do I put up with this? Must have had my brain sucked out my serpent."

"I…" I would have liked to say 'I don't believe you'. But unfortunately, I did. "I've been had."

"Well, you've certainly been deceived. No shame in that, dear girl. Happens to the best of us. They are actors, you know."

Well, okay, I'd been lied to. That didn't make the plight of the tieflings any less desperate. Far from it.

"They really need that gem," I said.

"So do I." Mekrath picked up his book, marking the end of the conversation.

* * *

Of course, I couldn't leave it at that. Mekrath knew it, too, and watched me while pretending to attend to my education. The next day, we made potions. The process was interesting—for the first part of the morning. As soon as the job got tedious, Mekrath started thinking of other urgent tasks he had to do. I was pretty sure 'taking a nap' was one of them.

"Can't you just use a golem to do all this stirring?" I complained.

"I should waste a spell and components when I have an apprentice? Discipline, my dear girl, discipline." He slapped my rear and sauntered out.

I gave him a good head start and then soft-footed after him. As I suspected, the door to his bed chamber was closed. I put my ear to the door and was almost immediately rewarded by the sound of the whoosh of wind that came when he cast his Dimension Gate spell. Of course I had no way of knowing how long he'd be gone but that didn't really matter.

I set a couple of imps to watch the potions, telling them that if they did a good job I'd be able to talk Mekrath out of harvesting their organs for spell ingredients. That got them stirring like mad. Then I grabbed my dark cloak and my sewer shoes—an ugly old pair of boots I didn't mind ruining—and slipped out the front door. Mekrath wouldn't teach me to teleport yet, damn him, so I was still stuck with the sewers.

It was past midday when I walked into the Five Flagons Inn. The common room hadn't begun to fill up yet. The innkeeper, Samuel, gave me a wink and jerked his head towards the back stairs. I was starving so before I went up I had the bargirl toast me some bread and cheese. She wrapped the gooey sandwich in a napkin and handed me a mug as well. Thus fortified, I trudged up the stairs and knocked on the frame of the half-open door to the actor's sitting room.

"Come in," Raelis said.

I pushed the door wider. What a dingy and depressing room. The Five Flagons had a fabulous bar but the inn itself was definitely low rent—highly reminiscent of the Copper Coronet, in fact. Most of the troupe were lounging on the ratty sofas or sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. A few of them were tieflings from the original Sigil Troupe but most were locals Raelis had picked up.

Only Raelis, who had a bound script in her lap, seemed alert; the others looked half asleep or heavily hung over. I know actors keep late hours but I also thought I caught the scent of black lotus. Tsk tsk. Jaheira told me smoking that stuff would rot your brain.

Raelis gave me a hopeful look that my words dashed from her face.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Mekrath will not give up the gem."

My eyes went to Haer'Dalis, who was curled up at Raelis's feet. Despite her bird metaphors, he reminded me more of a cat. Not a tame housecat, of course, but a half-feral tom, lean and battered, afraid of little and impressed by less.

"Then we are doomed," he said simply. Raelis stroked his hair.

"No, my sparrow, I refuse to give up so easily. There must be a way we can reason with the mage."

"He sounded adamant," I said. Raelis lifted her head. Something passed between her and the others. Except for Haer'Dalis, they rose to their feet and shuffled out, closing the door behind them.

"Sit beside me," she invited and patted the couch. Haer'Dalis shifted to make room. Once I was settled, he leaned back against me. He radiated heat like a stove, making my feet and legs feel as warm as the meal I'd just scarfed down.

"Tell me of this wizard," Raelis said. "Surely he has some need, some weakness we can exploit to make him return our gem." She fixed her large eyes on my face. "Forgive me for speaking so frankly but our need is great. It is not merely our freedom we fight for but our very lives themselves. Our enemies are more persistent than I dreamed possible when…when we ran afoul of them."

"I don't really know Mekrath all that well. He doesn't give much away."

"Yet you are in a greater position than any of us to learn more. You have the freedom of his keep, which we do not. If we cannot move him with pity, is there not some other lever we can use?"

Raelis took my hand and pressed it. Like Haer'Dalis, her fingers were feverishly warm. She stroked my palm in an abstracted way.

"We had heard…we had thought that sensuality might be the key." She blinked and smiled at me. "We are but poor actors, but the pleasures of the body—those we know well enough." When she released my hand, her own hand fell, as if by accident, on my thigh. "It is said that Mekrath walks the tantric path."

"Yes, he does," I said slowly. "That's one of his interests anyway. You know, I always thought a tantric mage would be as randy as a weasel. Well, he is, but he has tremendous self-control. Mekrath says that abstinence is the key to building sexual power. He is less susceptible to seduction than other men I know."

Haer'Dalis had turned so he was looking up at me. I could feel his warm breath on my knee through my breeches.

"Sorry, Haer'Dalis," I said. "Your plan to seduce his gem away was doomed to fail."

He blinked up at me with no sign of embarrassment. I gave Raelis a look. She spread her hands in a placating gesture.

"These lies are my responsibility but I cannot apologize for them," she said. Her hand dropped back to my thigh. I had noticed that the tieflings touched each other frequently and she seemed unconscious that she was treating me the same way. "Our need is most desperate. My dear Doomguard here may be prepared to embrace oblivion but I am not."

Well, I couldn't blame her for that. Avoiding oblivion was pretty damned high on my personal priority list. Besides, it's not like I've never lied to get my way.

"We had not meant to steal the gem but merely to borrow it," she said. "Once I summon a conduit, we can leave the Prime. Once in the Astral Plane, I feel certain we can work our way back to Sigil. And there we have friends who may help us settle our…misunderstanding."

The hopeful look was back on her face. Her hand tightened on my thigh.

"Since you have free access to the wizard's home, is it not possible…"

Haer'Dalis came to his feet with feline swiftness.

"No, Miss Raelis," he said. "You are asking Minette to take a greater risk than you know. The gem is protected with spells and deadly traps. I have already failed to retrieve it. She is not one of us and it is unfair to ask her to face the wizard's wrath."

"Sit down," she told him. The couch dipped as he lowered himself beside me. "Very well, my Doomguard, I hear your objection." She raised her delicate brows. "You have a champion, I see," she told me, with a touch of tartness.

"It is possible that the Lady of Pain sent us to the Material Plane for a purpose," he said. "Perhaps the factol's long arm cannot reach us here."

"And you would gamble all our lives on that hope? No. We must not be trapped here. Our safety lies in flight." She pursed her lips. Haer'Dalis, who had taken breath to speak, hesitated. "We have both spoken these lines before, dear sparrow, and have no need to bore our guest with a stale repetition."

"I am guided by you as always, Miss Raelis." If there was an edge of irony in his tone, she did not remark upon it.

She leaned forward, now with both hands on my thighs, closing the space between us. I leaned back and bumped into Haer'Dalis's chest. Raelis's eyes were brown with a blood-like tinge to them. Her avid gaze made me uncomfortable but her partner's slow steady breaths were an invitation to relax. He put his hands on my shoulders. I let a little more of my weight sag against him. Taking that as assent, he dug his fingers into my tight muscles.

Raelis rose and took a few restless paces across the room. She moved to the table while Haer'Dalis began working the tension out of my neck. His fingers were very strong. They were the hands of a musician or a swordsman, and I wasn't sure which.

Raelis lifted the glass shade from the lamp and used its flame to light her pipe. The sweet smell of black lotus filled the room. She took a deep hit from the pipe. I could practically see the wave of relaxation ripple through her body. She sat beside me again and offered it to me.

"No thanks."

She took my hand and closed it around the stem.

"Please, I insist," she said. "You have rescued my dear Haer'Dalis and we have so little with which to repay you. Come, let me show you what hospitality I can offer."

When I continued to hesitate, Haer'Dalis reached around me and took the pipe. He sucked in the smoke and then held the pipe to my mouth. I took a small hit. The smoke tickled my throat but I managed not to cough. I've tried tobacco before and found it foul but the lotus wasn't as harsh as I'd expected. I handed the pipe to Raelis but she gestured for me to try it again. So I did.

Oh, my.

Sometime later, but probably not as long as it felt, I giggled as Raelis unhooked the fastenings to my vest. Haer'Dalis slipped it off my shoulders and then pulled my linen shirt loose from my breeches. His hands slipped underneath and clasped me by the waist. Raelis took my face in her hands and kissed me. I opened my lips to her probing tongue. Her mouth tasted like lotus.

I thought I was content with long languid kisses but when Haer'Dalis's hands moved up my ribs and then higher, to cup my breasts, I needed more.

"Hot," I murmured against Raelis's lips. She smiled and withdrew a bit so I could loosen the ties to my shirt. She pulled it over my head. The cool air of the room washed over me but I was still hot. My face felt flushed. Raelis traced a line from my collarbone to my breast. Despite the heat, I shivered. From behind me, Haer'Dalis nudged me, encouraging me to arch my back. I let my head fall back against his chest as Raelis knelt on the couch and lowered her face to my breast.

"Sweet Sharess," I moaned. "Where's your bedchamber?" The couch was awfully crowded for what I had in mind.

But we didn't make it there. One thing led to another, as they say, and soon she had me gasping and begging for mercy on the inn's thin carpet.

Hospitality or no hospitality, the tieflings both had way too many clothes on. I squirmed to my knees and faced Raelis, who rocked back on her heels. Her dress buttoned down the front and I got busy.

"Tell me," I said. "Do you have the same delightful markings that Haer'Dalis has?"

"See for yourself," she invited. Once the dress was open to her waist, I was able to push it down her slim hips. She stood and stepped out of it. I looked up.

"Gorgeous."

Spots like dark thumbprints decorated her shoulders and belly in a symmetrical pattern. Smiling, she turned so that I could see how the pattern swirled around her hips and marched in a fluid line up her spine, to disappear into her scalp.

"A fine sight that is," Haer'Dalis said in my ear. I had to agree. She moaned as my mouth began an eager exploration. I was aware when he stood and walked around us slowly. Taking in the sights, I supposed, but then I heard the rustle of cloth. Ah, getting undressed at last and not a moment too soon. I raised my face to take in the sights myself.

Haer'Dalis stalked toward us, lithe as a panther. My head was more than a little muzzy but one thing I knew: _I want him_.

Raelis turned me toward him as if to offer me up, a most willing sacrifice. For a moment I regretted we hadn't taken the time to move to the bedchamber, but it was down the hall, impossibly far away. Haer'Dalis stretched out beside me.

When I grinned at him, he laughed and rolled me on my back. He paused a moment, staring down at me with his drowning deep dark eyes. I was more than ready but still he hesitated. When I raised my hips in invitation, he pulled away.

Raelis's musical laugh came from behind us.

"Don't torture the poor girl," she said. "Give her what she wants."

"Yes, listen to her. Give me what I want."

He smiled and then he entered me. His slow deep strokes were amazing. So slow, so controlled. His expression was intent yet remote, like a scarred angel dreaming of redemption. Did he dream of losing himself to oblivion instead?

His long hair hung down over his face. I don't know if it was the lotus or just the fact that this felt so wonderful but where I had been frantic for release, now a great peace flowed over me. Like a bird, my spirit spread its wings. Intense as they were, I began to feel detached from the sensations in my own body. If oblivion could be found in passion, I was willing to seek it with him.

I shut my eyes but what I saw was not the darkness of my eyelids but a shimmer of energy, all green and white and gold like a shining net, like sunshine through the forest canopy. I've visualized the Weave most of my life but now it felt like I saw it for the first time.

I opened my eyes and the web was gone, yet its afterimage was burned upon my sight.

"My dove," Haer'Dalis said. His eyes studied me. I don't know if he felt what I felt—how could he?—but the awareness behind those dark eyes told me he felt something. In that moment, my heart went out to him on a great wave of longing. "Is this what you want?"

I couldn't speak but I tightened my arms around him. His face was grave, all laughter gone. With no more words, he increased the rhythm until he pounded into me. The stronger his exertions, the more passive I became. I wanted to offer myself as the vessel for his passion. He read my mood as if I had put it in words.

His fingers dug hard into my shoulders, painfully hard, and with a groan that could have held agony as easily as ecstasy, he came. When I felt him let go, so did I, in silence, with light flashing in my eyes and blinding me.


	6. A Walking Nightmare

_Author's Note: And the plot thickens, without, alas, any smut._

**Chapter 6…A Walking Nightmare**

I'm not sure how I got home. I think I floated. Once I entered the dark of the sewers, I pulled invisibility around me like an old familiar cloak. The spell casting had never been so easy. I wafted past the outlaws' camp and couldn't even be bothered to set up any of the pranks I'd planned for them, which now seemed undeservedly vicious.

I left my dirty boots inside the door and let the spell fade. I stared as the magic actually dripped from my fingers, like black water, glistening for a second and then disappearing, reabsorbed into the Weave. I held up my hands and smiled.

I felt Mekrath's movements in the Weave a moment before he stalked into the hall. I had thought the way the Weave clung to Haer'Dalis was beautiful but it danced around Mekrath and caressed him like a lover. I stared open-mouthed. Truly, I had never seen him before.

"Where have you been?" He sounded irate for some reason.

"Out." I came closer, close enough to actually touch the slight distortions in the Weave caused by the wizard's power. I dabbed my fingers through the bright webbing that surrounded him. "So pretty," I murmured.

"What in the Nine Hells is the matter with you?"

Now, really. How could one so blessed by Mystra and Corellon Larethian be so cranky? I gave him a sunny smile to cheer him up but his scowl darkened. How strange.

"Are you drunk?"

"Am I drunk?" I caroled back. "Why, no, I am not drunk. But what a lovely idea! Shall I fetch us some wine?"

He strode forward, grabbed my chin and turned my face toward the mage light on the wall. I winced and blinked.

"Your eyes look like black pits. What have you been doing?"

"Your eyes are pulsing." I gave him another smile. "But they are very nice eyes. Pretty green eyes. Green and bright like the Weave. Not all dark and mysterious like Haer'Dalis."

He sniffed my hair. I took the opportunity to nuzzle my face against his shoulder. He gave me a push, not hard, but enough to back me into the wall.

"You reek of black lotus."

"Oh. I'm sorry. How did that happen?" I giggled. "You smell good though."

"Idiot! Gah! What am I going to do with you? Every one of my potions ruined while you smoked lotus with that cursed tiefling! I should hang you up by your thumbs."

"You had me buy you lotus yesterday, Master Hypocrite."

"That was for potion making, not for smoking. That tiefling put you up to this, didn't he? I knew I should have left him petrified. Tieflings are nothing but trouble."

"He's really very nice," I said but my soothing words didn't seem to calm him down at all.

"'_He's really very nice_.'" Goodness, he was mocking me. "Oh, get that fatuous expression off your face. I can smell what else you were doing, you fool. Don't you have any more sense than to get involved with an actor?"

"You did it too."

"That was different. Besides, I'm not some fool girl without a brain in her head. And another thing—just what did you do to my imps? They tore the workroom apart. And then they had the gall to _hide_. From _me_!"

"Oh dear."

"Gah!"

"Please don't harvest them for spell components. I kind of promised them you wouldn't."

"You promised…you let them think I'd…gah! You'd better hope I don't harvest _you_ for spell components, starting with your thick skull."

"Aw, don't be mad, Mekkie."

"Mekkie?! That does it. I'm sending you to Corneil for another dose of discipline. He has a riding crop, you know. He's practically soiling himself for a chance to use it."

I could visualize exactly what would happen. Corneil would sense Mekrath's anger; he would know that he wanted me punished. Humiliated, even. This time, he wouldn't just flip my skirts up and give me a strapping. No, he'd make me strip. He'd watch with those cold, angry eyes. And then he'd bind me. Where? To the bed posts, maybe. Would he spread-eagle me? Yes, I rather thought he would.

A shiver ran through me. He'd cover my eyes. Yes, he wouldn't want me to see his reaction or to anticipate what was coming. But first, he'd show me the whip. Yes, he'd let me see it, feel it. Maybe he would rub it against my body. The leather would be cold, cruel. Just like him.

Like that other mage who took me. Bound me and blinded me and then…

My shiver turned into a deep shudder.

"What's the matter with you, girl? Gods, are you crying? Can't you recognize a jest when you hear one?"

"Don't let him have me."

"You…you're trembling! You can't seriously be afraid of that old fool, Corneil? You could destroy him with one spell, you idiot. Why do you think the Cowled Wizards have him filing papers like a clerk? He barely has enough power to light a lamp."

"Not him," I gasped. "The other one. Don't let _him_ have me."

"What other one? This is the lotus talking, isn't it?"

I hadn't known I was crying until I heard my own sobbing gasp. I couldn't get enough air. Mekrath grabbed my shoulders and gave me a shake.

"How much of that foul weed did you smoke? Don't you know it gives you waking dreams? Nightmares, often as not, when you have magic in your blood. Who could you possibly be so afraid of?"

Was this a dream? It didn't feel like one. I felt like all the strength, all the joy had run out of me, like blood from a mortal wound.

"J…J…Jon. Irenicus."

Mekrath went very still.

"Ah," he said at last. "Run afoul of that one, have you?"

I couldn't speak. I blinked and then nodded.

"Well. Well, now." He made a restless move and for a moment I thought he was going to hold me. That would have been welcome. Instead, he took my arm and led me into the sitting room. He filled two glasses from the decanter on the table against the back wall. It was whiskey he gave me, not wine. I don't like whiskey but I took a big gulp anyway.

"Irenicus is… a walking nightmare." With all the anger gone, his voice sounded quite serious. "I'm afraid of him myself."

I stared at my glass and took another drink. Nasty stuff, but as it burned its way down my throat, I felt less tearful and shaky.

"Sit down," he said. He half pushed me into a chair and took a seat across from me. "You'd best tell me what this is all about."

I tucked my feet up under me and wrapped my arms around my knees. The lights still seemed too bright. My head hurt.

"You, ah, you know who I am, right?" Mekrath knew I was a child of Bhaal but we had never discussed much of my history. Most people assume I'm lying about Baldur's Gate anyway, if I bring it up. I wish I was.

"I know you are an idiot." I gave him a look. "Yes, yes, I knew you were one of those id—those adventurers that made such a name for themselves up north. I like my privacy but I do hear the odd scrap of news, you know."

"Yes, well…"

"I thought you'd stumbled into that mess at the Promenade by accident. You didn't go _after_ Irenicus, did you? Don't you think that's taking heroic idiocy a bit too far? I'd rather face a dragon in his lair." He shuddered. "A whole _flight_ of dragons."

"No, I didn't go after him. I'd never heard of him. He hunted me."

For a second Mekrath's face went blank; then his mouth clamped shut and his eyelids shuttered his thoughts.

"Did he?"

I nodded. His bland look didn't fool me. There was some calculation going on in his head but he gave a little hand wave and said, "Go on."

"He held us underground. Under Waukeen's Promenade, as it happened, but at the time I didn't even know we were in Amn. He took us from outside Baldur's Gate."

"Us?"

"You met Jaheira and Minsc at the Copper Coronet." When I'd told Jaheira I'd be staying with Mekrath awhile, she had insisted upon a meeting. I didn't get the impression that either of them was overly impressed with each other. "He killed Jaheira's husband and the Rashemi witch who gave me some of my early training. The rest of us escaped during the Thieves Guild attack on his compound and that's when the Cowled Wizards took my friend, Imoen. And _him_."

"So you don't have to worry about Irenicus anymore."

"No. Now I have to worry about Imoen." And then I clamped my own mouth shut. Mekrath may not be a Cowled Wizard but he knew most of them. I should have guessed he'd be aware of Irenicus; wizards formed a tight community here. He didn't need to know that I was raising gold to break her out of whatever prison they were keeping her in.

"I'm sure she'll be fine," he said but he sounded uneasy.

Yeah, right. She'd be just fine and dandy in the care of those damned Cowls, when every single one I'd met so far had been greedy, cruel, incompetent, or some combination of the three.

"Tell me of Irenicus. What was his compound like?" Mekrath leaned forward, eyes avid. "Is it true that…"

I gave him a hard stare. I guess he couldn't help being curious but neither could I help being pissed about it. I stood up.

"I'm going to bed."

* * *

In the morning, surprise, surprise, I got the lovely task of cleaning out the wrecked workroom. Mekrath had not exaggerated the mess. Potions had boiled over or caught fire. At least one appeared to have exploded, spewing brown goo over the walls and ceiling. Perhaps in an attempt to cover up this first disaster with a worse one, the imps had smashed most of the bottles and jars in his stillroom. All Mekrath's carefully garnered ingredients were strewn around the workroom. No wonder he'd been so angry.

The imps squealed and flashed out of sight before I could enlist them as helpers.

Damn.

It did not help that I was feeling truly dreadful. My head was…well, it was about the same state as the workroom. Mekrath heartlessly refused to give me a healing potion, the cur. Whatever faint flash of sympathy he'd felt last night was gone now. He told me, with great smugness, that pain was a better teacher than he was, or at least one I was more likely to listen to.

By the time I'd hauled away the last of the debris and thrown it out into the sewers, my back was aching as much as my head. I trudged into Mekrath's tiny kitchen to make myself some tea. No sooner did I sink down to the table with the mug in my hands but Mekrath flitted in, looking disgustingly self-satisfied.

"Ah, Minette, here you are. You will be happy to learn that I have finished my list."

_What list?_ I was supposed to ask but I didn't want to know. I gave him a sullen look. He sat across from me and, with a flourish, slid a square of parchment across the table. For a moment, I refused to look at it. Then I sighed and picked it up. The page was filled with Mekrath's small, neat writing. I didn't feel like squinting to make it out. I pushed it back at him.

"Your damages," he said smugly.

"Damages, huh?" I sighed again. "I suppose you expect me to go shopping for you again."

"I do indeed. And I expect you to purchase everything on that list out of your own purse."

"What!" I snatched up the list. Some of the items were rare; some would no doubt have to be custom ordered. We were talking thousands of gold here. I planted my elbows on the table and glared.

"Sorry," I said. "I can't afford all this."

"You should have thought about that before you chose to carouse with the tiefling instead of attending to your duties."

I opened my mouth to protest, and then shut it again. If he knew I'd visited the tieflings to discuss the planar gem, he would not be pleased.

Besides, technically I supposed I _had_ been carousing. And what a time I'd had. I smirked to myself. Mekrath's eyes narrowed. He then proceeded to tear a strip off my hide, telling me if I thought I could waltz into his home and wreck the place with impunity, I had no more brains than one of his imps. It was my responsibility to replace my damages and if I didn't have the gold, by Corellon's blade, I'd better go hustle for it. And if that meant I had to peddle my ass down at the Docks, then I'd best get moving.

There may have been some justice in his complaints but he had no call shouting them at me when I felt so dreadful. I didn't feel up to screaming back at him. So I gave him a withering look and, pointedly leaving his damned list on the table, stalked out of the room.

My mind was a blank. I didn't know what to do but I knew I couldn't do it here. So I grabbed my cloak and my sword belt and left.

I ended up in the guild house I'd taken over when I'd killed Mae'Var. There was no good news waiting for me there, alas, only more problems. I settled some petty bickering and then, cursing with every step, trudged to the prison to bail out one of my thieves. The bribes I had to lay out emptied my house coffers. Then I had to listen to her whined excuses. I eyed my fumble-fingered thief with displeasure and wondered if a stint on the city's work gangs would have helped her more than the lecture I felt obliged to deliver.

My own voice depressed me greatly. Oh, gods smite me, I sounded like an echo of Mekrath.

Just when I thought I was through for the day, one of our child messengers galloped in and panted that Renal Bloodscalp wanted to see me. Damning him in my thoughts, I dragged myself across the district to the unobtrusive house where Renal held court.

How had I ever let him talk me into running Mae'Var's house for him? Easy coin, he'd told me when I'd initially refused his offer. He knew I had to raise Gaelan's fee and he'd assured me this was the quickest path to do so. New and friendless in Athkatla, I'd been desperate enough to believe him. But instead the guild had eaten up my time and given nothing in return. Sure, the coin flowed into our hands—and flowed right out again in the form of bribes, expenses, and the house cut I had to pay Renal whether I made a profit or not.

Renal gave me a genial smile when I was ushered into his office but his eyes were cold. His eyes were always cold, I suspected, to match the cold dead soul inside. I've been around assassins; I knew the look. At a gesture, the three guild members who had been sitting at the table quietly left. Renal's bodyguard remained, a lean boy with the unlined face of a teenager and the moves of a wild beast. Rumor had it he was a shape-changer and liked to kill with his hands and teeth. I didn't want to confirm that with personal experience. He lounged in a chair near the door. His face looked bored but his eyes shifted with alertness.

"You sent for me, sir?" I asked after the silence had stretched out too long. Renal tented his fingers and leaned back in his chair. He was playing games and I felt my pulse speed up as I fell right into them. What had I done? What hadn't I done?

And then I knew. Oh, hells. The creases by his mouth deepened as he took in my horrified realization.

"By some oversight, your payment is overdue, Minette."

"I…I'm sorry. I lost track of the date."

"I did not call you here for an apology."

Gods, what was I going to do?

"I…sir, I need an extension."

"An extension?" His tone was wondering, as if the word was a new one to him. "My dear Minette, did you take me for a money lender?"

The bodyguard snickered. We both ignored him. I stood in silence a moment. I didn't bother to offer excuses; I had a fair idea how he'd react to them. Where was I going to get the coin? There was only one option I could think of—take it from the gold I was saving for Imoen's rescue. I had sworn to Jaheira, when I put it into her keeping, that I would not do so for any reason. And the chances were good that she'd hold me to my promise, particularly when she heard what I needed it for. She wasn't too happy with me as it was.

"This guild has little place for the incompetent or the overly fastidious," Renal said. He was right. Mae'Var's main profit, I had learned too late, had come from slaving and murder. I'd been too 'fastidious' to step into his bloody boots and it had cost me. Renal let me stew there for a moment, standing in front of him like an errant schoolgirl.

"However," he said. "I have been offered a contract that you are in a unique position to execute." I raised my eyebrows enquiringly, like a good little hireling, but that word 'execute' made me uneasy. Renal tended to speak precisely, I'd noticed. "A simple burglary," he said as if he'd been reading my thoughts. "The fee for retrieving the item in question would suffice to meet your quota for this ten-day."

"And what are my unique qualifications?"

"The item belongs to a mage," he said. "With your talents, you should be able to penetrate his defenses where the rest of us cannot." His thin lips stretched in a thin smile. "But in your case, the task is even simpler."

And just why was that? With a sinking feeling, I asked, "The name of the mark?"

"Mekrath Ceithian. He has a planar gem in his possession. You are to steal it for me."


	7. The Planar Gem

_Author's Note: In BG2, Haer'Dalis and others seem to use the term 'berk' as a neutral form of address but the planar cant dictionaries I've seen define it closer to 'fool'. This is the definition I use here—hope that's not confusing._

**Chapter 7…The Planar Gem**

I stormed into the Five Flagons and let the door swing shut behind me with a slam. Ignoring the barman's bellow, I flew up the stairs two at a time and burst into the actors' sitting room. Empty, damn it, except for Biff, the moronic understudy.

"Raelis Shai," I growled. "Where is she?"

He gave me a sleepy blink. I suppressed the urge to rattle his brains into action.

"Dunno," he finally said. "Just got up." He blinked again and rubbed his eyes like a child. "Didcha try downstairs?"

Argh. I stomped back to the bar. Samuel, with a grimace at my expression, silently pointed to the stairs that led down to the playhouse.

Raelis walked along the stage with some fellow I didn't recognize. From their conversation, I gathered he was a scene painter. Raelis gave me a friendly smile. Not a trace of shame or embarrassment could I see. Actors! She finished her low-voiced instructions, and then turned to me.

"What an unexpected pleasure," she said.

"Is it?" Her eyes widened at my tone. She took my arm and steered me to one of the dressing rooms.

"Why, what troubles you, sweet child?"

"You hired the Thieves Guild to steal Mekrath's gem," I said. Her eyes widened in earnest this time. "You've put me in a bad situation here. Mekrath's already furious with me and now this. What do you expect me to do?"

"But my dear, I don't expect you to do anything. Coming up with the fee for the guild was difficult but Haer'Dalis persuaded me this was for the best. It was selfish of me to expect you to betray your master to help us."

My mouth opened and shut like that of a fish thrown up on the river bank. I grabbed my own head by the hair before it could wobble off.

"How did you find out?" she asked. "My sparrow assured me he would leave you out of our sordid affairs."

"Surely you were aware Renal Bloodscalp would assign this task to me. Even if he didn't, Mekrath will still hold me responsible for not warning him that he's been targeted by my own guild."

The stunned look on her face said it all. If this was acting, it was superb.

"You…didn't know I was a thief? You didn't know I ran one of Bloodscalp's guild houses?"

Surely the gods must be laughing.

"My dear, I had no idea. I thought you were a mage. Haer'Dalis told me you had become Mekrath's apprentice."

Of course she didn't know. How could either of them have known? I didn't exactly go about advertising that I was a Shadow Thief after all.

"How can I make this right? If I withdraw my contract, I will lose my initial payment, and it was substantial," she said. "At the rate our resources are dwindling…"

"No, that won't help," I said. "I'm having something of a resource problem myself." I paced back and forth, chewing my lip. "No, I have to steal the gem. And you have to pay the guild for it. And then…then you have to give it back to me. If Mekrath discovers that it is missing…well, I am not sure what he will do."

Who would I rather antagonize—Mekrath or the guild? With all the other problems the guild was facing, I didn't think Renal would bother to come up with a creative punishment. I figured he'd handle me like he'd handled Mae'Var: send some fool to kill me. Even if he didn't, I needed the guild to find Imoen, and that meant staying on their good side.

Mekrath I wasn't so sure about. I had thought he had a certain fondness for me but I certainly didn't want to make him an enemy. He might not kill me but I wouldn't put him above doing something horrid.

"Give it back?" Raelis asked. "Why would I do that if I've paid for it?"

"Because it's not yours?" Yikes, that sounded pretty damned ironic, coming from me. "You told me you just wanted to borrow the gem. Very well, I'll help you borrow it but we've got to do this quickly. Are you and your troupe prepared to move on little notice?"

"We can be." Her eyes sparkled. "There are only four of us returning to Sigil."

"Then I will let you know when I've got the gem."

She grasped my hand and pressed it to her lips.

* * *

There was no sign of Mekrath when I returned to his keep. He'd left me no note and I saw no clues as to where he might have gone. That made me uneasy but I guessed I should count my blessings. I knew where the gem was kept, of course. I hadn't needed Haer'Dalis's directions or warnings. I'd already thoroughly snooped through Mekrath's domain, especially the places he'd told me to leave alone, like the ruined chapel behind his bedchamber. The altar had been dedicated to one of the old forgotten gods and he hadn't had the nerve to tear it down when he'd taken the place over. Even dead gods have ways of making their displeasure felt, he'd said. He'd left the dirt and rubble to hide his traps.

The first two were mechanical and pathetically easy to disarm. I'd have to give Mekrath lessons on trap-setting sometime. It was the spell-trap on the altar I was worried about. This was the petrification trap that had caught Haer'Dalis, and if I got caught in it too, Mekrath would never let me live it down. Damned elf, he might find it amusing to leave me petrified for a decade or two to teach me a lesson.

I'd studied the trap three or four times already over the time I'd worked for Mekrath, trying to understand how the trigger worked. Every time, I'd been mystified. This time I sat cross-legged on the floor, leaned back against a pillar, and let my thoughts wander. I knew Mekrath better now. I knew more about how his twisty mind worked. I needed to approach this problem as a mage, not as a thief.

And of course, the solution was obvious, once I thought of it. Mekrath might study alchemy and the tantric arts, but he was first and foremost a conjurer. Unless I could walk on the ceiling, I couldn't pass his wards—but a flying creature like an imp or a mephit could do so easily. And while Mekrath had been coy about teaching me any of his custom spells, during my ill-fated partnership with Edwin Odesseiron, I'd managed a peek or two at his spell book. I ran back to my room for my own spell book. Yes, I had just the thing. In less time than I'd spent scratching my head over the problem, I'd cast my conjuration, had the gem in my hand, and banished my little beastie.

The planar gem was a shimmering blue stone almost as big as both my thumbs put together. If it had been a sapphire, a stone so large would have been a rare treasure in itself. It was tourmaline; not so rare but still a very nice gem. Of course, it was the enchantments that made it spectacular. The gem almost buzzed in my hand with the power stored inside.

I found myself mesmerized by the stone's depths and had to blink and look away. Now I had an inkling why Mekrath prized it so. If he ever found out I'd borrowed it—that would be bad. I was more worried about Renal Bloodscalp's reaction when he got a good look at this beauty. He might just decide to up his price for Raelis…or double-cross her and keep it for himself. What would one of the Cowled Wizards be willing to pay for such a fabulous artifact?

I wrapped the gem in my handkerchief and tucked it away in my hidden vest pocket, where it wouldn't be found by a casual search. Still, I felt as conspicuous as a tanar'ri at a paladin's wedding with that gem radiating its power to anyone with the Sight to see it. I rushed out the door.

And in my abstraction, I ran (almost literally) into Draug Fea's lookout.

"Whoa there, girly," he called, loud enough to get the attention of his lowlife pals. "Come back for more?" And he made a suggestive thrust with his hips.

I snarled, almost as angry at myself as at this fool rubbing his crotch.

"Lay a finger on me and you'd better hope your friends can afford the priest!"

He held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Don't get your knickers twisted, your ladyship," he told me. "The mage has made his wishes known loud and clear."

"Well, all right then." Humph. I didn't have time for a fight but I felt cheated anyway. I walked the gauntlet of the outlaws' stares, ignoring their catcalls and lewd comments. Not a one of them so much as patted my ass. They were afraid of Mekrath but not of me. That pissed me off.

"Come back and see us anytime," Draug Fea sang. Oh, yeah, I'd be sure to do so when I had a half dozen spare fireball scrolls or a freshly charged wand. I'd already memorized a couple of web spells in anticipation of webbing them into their bedrolls one night.

I was breathless from running up the stairs to the actors' rooms. Raelis and Haer'Dalis were waiting for me. Raelis stared at me and her face brightened with a smile.

"You have the gem!" She could sense it, which was interesting, but there was hardly time to question her.

"I've got to get it to Renal. As soon as you pay off the guild, he'll hand it over," I said. "Then you can use it and give it back to me. But be discreet, please. I'm not supposed to know who placed the contract, you see. I'll take him the gem, but you need to be prepared to press him for it."

Raelis gave me a puzzled look but Haer'Dalis understood.

"You think he might be tempted to keep it for himself?"

"I don't know. I hadn't realized how potent the gem was until I picked it up. But then I'm a mage. Perhaps it will not seem so special and rare to him."

"Now that we have the gem, why is there any need to involve ourselves any further with this thief?" Raelis asked. "Let him keep my advance. Surely that will satisfy him."

Argh.

"No, no, that won't do. Renal must be paid or I'm in big trouble."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm in debt to Renal," I explained with as much patience as I could muster. "I have to fulfill this contract to square myself with him."

"If Miss Raelis gives you the payment intended for the Thieves, would that be enough to clear your debt?" Haer'Dalis asked.

I smiled at Haer'Dalis. What a practical suggestion! I was sure Renal was gouging the actors for far more than what I owed him. But Raelis frowned.

"I don't have the coin."

"What?!" Haer'Dalis and I spoke in unison.

"I thought we would have more time so I could raise it!"

Hells, what now? If I turned the gem over to Renal and Raelis didn't pay him, he would find another buyer. No one likes to hold a wizard's property any longer than necessary, in case he comes looking for it.

This wasn't going to work.

"I'm going to have to put the gem back before Mekrath misses it. I can steal it again when you get the coin."

"No!" Raelis cried. She gave Haer'Dalis a panicky look which he returned with no expression at all. The suspicion that she expected him to wrest the gem from my suddenly sweaty hands popped into my head.

"How much are you short?" I asked.

Raelis called in all her actors and crew; had everyone turn out their pockets. Raelis threw in her jewelry and Haer'Dalis chipped in a small stash of unset gemstones.

"Will that be enough?" Raelis asked anxiously. I hated to strip them of all they had, when they were going to still be on the run once they hit the Planes. Still, chances were they'd all held a little back in reserve. (I would have.) It was hard to know exactly what I'd get for fencing the jewelry but even an optimistic estimate left me short. I frowned. Haer'Dalis gave my neck a quick squeeze and left the room. He came back a few minutes later with a handful of coins, gold and silver mixed together. Raelis raised her brows.

"Borrowed from the innkeeper," he said. Amazing. Anyone who could cajole gold out of an innkeeper (and a halfling innkeeper at that) had talents that were wasted on the stage. I'd never had much luck even running a tab at this inn.

He grinned at me.

"I pledged your credit to repay him," he said.

Oh. Great.

"Very well," I said. If it wasn't enough, I'd sell some of my gear. "Ladies, gentlemen, let's get moving."

* * *

Besides Raelis and Haer'Dalis, there were only two other actors planning on returning to the planes. They were all that was left of the original company. They ran to their rooms to pack their gear, except for Raelis, who went down to the playhouse to prepare the portal. She decided the open area of the stage was the best place for the summoning, since she couldn't predict exactly where the gate would open. Nor could she predict how long it would remain open, so the tieflings had to be prepared to move quickly.

She chalked out an empty space and began to trace symbols round the edges of the rough circle. She worked quickly, with the gem in one hand as if it guided her. What she made looked like no summoning circle I'd ever seen.

When the other tieflings clattered down the stairs, they were in travel clothes. Haer'Dalis wore leather armor and a sword at each hip, an arrangement which seemed natural to him.

"Are you expecting a fight?" I asked.

"Walking the planes is always perilous," he said. "Sometimes creatures get drawn through the young conduits as they're forming. It may take Miss Raelis several attempts until she finds one to take us where we wish to go."

Oh, wonderful. All I had was my leather vest, and it was soft, for comfort, not hardened for protection.

"Minette, I am ready for the summoning," Raelis said. She smiled at me.

"My dear, you have been our savior indeed. Words are not thanks enough and yet they are all I have to offer you." She took me in her arms, kissed both my cheeks and then my mouth. "It will take me a few moments to prepare the stone but I will say my farewells now." She kissed me again. Then strong hands turned me around and I found myself in Haer'Dalis's embrace. He looked down into my eyes, his own dark and serious.

"Farewell, my dove," he said. For a long moment, he just held me. Then he lowered his head and I rose up on my toes so he could kiss me. He did so quite thoroughly. He seemed in no hurry to release me either. "Twice you've saved me and I've repaid you how? By heaping more troubles onto your sweet head."

"I'm used to troubles. They flock around me like those birds you're always talking about."

"I can see that chaos clings to you like a lover."

"Now you sound like Mekrath, except he doesn't say that like it's a good thing."

"Yet chaos is the fate for us all, whether we embrace her or turn away."

His lips parted as if he would speak further but then one corner of his mouth turned down. Self-mockery, perhaps? Raelis's excited voice called out and I felt the breath catch in my throat. Power ran up my arms. It felt like Raelis had squeezed the Weave out like a wet dishrag, splashing the wash water all around.

"Gather around, my friends."

Something moved within her circle, something bright yet shadowy, like a shining ghost.

"The conduit seeks an outlet," she said.

"The conduit whips across the planes like a snake, seeking a viable junction," Haer'Dalis said in my ear. "Raelis charms the serpent to bend to our will, yet it may take several attempts until we reach a locus suitable for our needs."

My arms prickled with gooseflesh. A long atonal note began to wail in my head. The sound ran up my spine, painful and unpleasant. Clamping my hands over my ears didn't mute it. The note rose to an almost unbearable pitch and then the intensity dropped off.

"That is our cue," Haer'Dalis said. He stepped away from me and in a showy cross-draw, unsheathed both his blades.

"Expecting trouble?"

"Always."

A ghastly glare lit Raelis's face and a dark portal, limned with phosphorescence, formed before her.

"No!" she cried. "This will not do." There was a rending screech and the portal winked and was gone. The surge in the Weave knocked my legs out from under me; I caught myself and fell to one knee. As Raelis wrestled with the power of the conduit, something dark flowed across her chalked markings. They weren't truly wards, I realized, as the creature crossed them. Haer'Dalis, whose quick reactions startled me, ran between the shadow and Raelis before I could even draw my blade.

Moving in a fluid whirl, the tiefling sliced first one blade then the other through the shadow's amorphous form. Plain steel has no effect on shadows but his blades were enchanted. They tore through the creature. I called fire from my hands and finished it off.

After another ill-fated connection, this time to the Plane of Fire, Raelis's voice finally called in triumph.

"Here, friends." When she brushed her forehead with the back of her hand, I could see that her hair was damp with sweat. Whatever she was doing took a lot out of her, so much was plain. "I think—aiaee!"

The backlash of power slammed me backwards. I hit the floor on my ass, hard, yet I had been shielded from the worst of it. Raelis dropped with a thud like one of her huge curtain weights. The planar gem fell from her hand and rolled across the floor. I sprang up and dashed for the gem. Haer'Dalis faced the portal as it brightened. Three figures stepped through. The first was slight and slim—an elf? Were there elves walking the planes? Well, why not? The second man was human height. Behind them slithered a tall menacing yuan-ti.

I snarled. I'd learned to hate yuan-ti when we cleaned out Nalia's keep. I stepped back towards the curtain at the front of the stage and silently unsheathed my sword. The yuan-ti's skin was an unnatural dull color—great, a stoneskinned mage—but my blade's flame enchantment would burn through it. There wasn't much cover on the stage but the strangers' attention was on Haer'Dalis, who stood in a relaxed swordsman's stance.

The elf, if that's what he was, held out his hand in warning. Something in the cast of his face made me think he was half-blooded like me, although I wasn't convinced his other half was human. He wore a gaudy chain shirt that sparkled with enchantment. The rings chimed like tiny, tiny bells when he moved. He had a sword sheathed at his side. The other fellow was horned like a goat and—was that a tail? My goodness! He pulled out a club and took a step towards Haer'Dalis. Haer'Dalis's face was a mask of calmness but his eyes had the twitchy look of a cat unsure which way to jump.

Raelis groaned and sat up. She looked at the three strangers. She was milky pale.

"Who are you?" she asked. The yuan-ti moved closer. She shrank away from him, towards the planar gem.

"Our names are unimportant," the man in mail said. "My employer's name you know well enough, Raelis Shai. Next time you decide to satirize a factol, pick one with a sense of humor."

"We had no intention…we chose that play unknowing it had any relation to current events." Her voice was pleading but she moved yet closer to the gem. It was almost within her reach.

The half-elf laughed.

"Save your excuses for the duke. I'm paid to bring you in and that's all I'm interested in. You've led me quite a chase but now you're scragged." His head swiveled towards Haer'Dalis. "Put those chivs away, Sinker, before something bad happens to the lady" he said. He jerked his head at the snake-man, who was close enough to lean over Raelis. I wasn't sure what a Sinker was but it didn't sound like a compliment. "It doesn't matter to me if you're conscious or not when I drag you through that gate but I fancy it will matter to you. Round them up," he said to his horned friend.

The yuan-ti's tail came down on Raelis's wrist when she snatched for the gem. With one fluid dip, he scooped it up.

"Hey!" I yelled. "That's mine!"

Three sets of hostile eyes turned my way.

"Who is this berk?" the leader asked.

"A resident, a Prime. She has nothing to do with the Sigil Troupe or our problems," Haer'Dalis said.

"Yeah?" He pointed at me. "Well, listen up, outsider. Mind your own business or I'm going to be seriously piked off. And you don't want that."

Well, hells, the odds didn't look that bad. Three of them against five of us. They were all bigger than me but I'm used to that. Of course the other two actors—the little guy and the girl who had played Lunisia—were hunkered down in fear. I didn't expect much from them. And Raelis looked like the morning after an ale drinking contest. I was hoping this was an act to lull their suspicions (although it was pretty damned convincing).

"Feel free to pike yourself off and take Goat-boy there with you," I said. Haer'Dalis hissed something at me but I was on a roll. "And you. Leg-less!" I yelled at the yuan-ti. Turning on its muscular tail, it gaped its mouth at me to show me its fangs. "Hand over my gem before _I_ get seriously piked off."

"Come get it, berk."

I took two running steps and then dodged the yuan-ti's tail. Something snapped through the Weave. I heard Haer'Dalis grunt in pain. Was the half-elf a spell-caster too? Wished I'd known but it was too late to worry about him. My body was moving quicker than my thoughts and I was focused on the snake man.

He threw itself back from the thrust of my sword. Still, I managed to knock a chip out of his stoneskin, right in the face, too. That had to hurt. Next thing I knew, the back of my head exploded. I staggered. Goat-boy had clubbed me. Before I could recover, someone grabbed me by one arm and the back of my vest and threw me to the floor. A heavy boot in the middle of my back stomped me flat. Moaning, I turned my head sideways and looked up.

The half-elf grinned down at me.

"I ought to kick your ass, clueless," he said. I was under the impression he just had. What _was_ he? No one should have been able to move that fast.

The horned tiefling had Haer'Dalis in a come-along hold. The other two actors supported Raelis between them while the yuan-ti motioned them to go through the portal. The half-elf pressed his foot harder and crushed the breath out of me.

"But this gate will close in a tick or two so I can't stay to wigwag. Bye, sod."

With a last contemptuous look, he was gone.

I gave a groan of pain and frustration. Gods, my head. I could feel the lump already. I stared at the portal which winked enigmatically. The actors taken, the gem—gone. Mekrath was going to kill me.

"_I_ ought to kick your ass."

I squeaked in pure fright as Mekrath stepped out of nothingness before me.

"Bhaal's mossy stones, what's the matter with you?" he asked. I was too busy gaping to speak. Where did he come from? How long had he been there? "If you could have kept your mouth shut, I'd have been able to snatch my gem and be gone before anyone knew I was there. But no, you just had to taunt those bounty hunters. Fool! I ought to send you in there after them with nothing but that big yap of yours as a weapon."

"Unh—I didn't think…"

"No, you didn't think. You might try it some time."

"What are you doing here?"

"Keeping an eye on my gem, of course. Let me tell you, that pole-axed look is not at all becoming, Minette. Did you really think you could steal from me so easily?" He shook his head. "I knew that cursed tiefling had you wrapped around his thumb, you damned fool."

"It was nothing like that!" I said indignantly.

"Oh?" he asked. His voice was frosty. "Well, no matter. We must work quickly if we're going to recover my gem."

"We're going—through there?" I stared at the portal. I fancied it stared back with something of the same contempt I'd seen on the bounty hunter's face.

"Of course. Oh, not just this moment, idiot. I have no intention of stepping off into the planes unprepared. Use your brain, hero, or the gem is lost to us no matter how quickly we move."

"That half-elf said the gate was about to close."

"Yes, I'll have to do something about that. Sit over there and be quiet, will you?"

He pulled something shiny out of one of his belt pouches. At first I thought it was another gem but it had a metallic sheen. I crept closer to get a better look. It looked like an egg-shaped puzzle box. Mekrath pushed a couple of tiny buttons set in its side and then set it down gingerly within arm's reach of the portal.

"There," he said and then frowned at me. "That should hold it—for awhile."

"What is that thing?"

"Magic," he said with heavy sarcasm. "Well, come on then." He put his arm on my shoulder and, before I realized what he planned, he yanked me through his dimension door.

"Ack!" We swung into blackness. There was no up, no down, and my stomach heaved in a most alarming manner. And then I stumbled—Mekrath jerked me upright by my sleeve—and we were back in his keep.

"Run get whatever gear and weapons you think you need and be quick about it," he said. "Meet me in the storeroom."

I already had my sword. I decided against my leather armor but I did change into better boots and made sure I had all my hideout weapons. I still had Roger's invisibility potion and a handful of healing potions I'd brought over from the Copper Coronet. On reflection, I chugged one down to fix my aching head. Did I want a pack? No, it would be better to stuff everything into my pockets and not have to keep up with anything else.

Mekrath had laid out an array of supplies on the storeroom table, including scrolls, wands and a tidy little padded case packed with potions. He had changed robes and he had a silver chain around his neck that I would have liked a better look at. He handed me a few more healing potions.

"Use these sparingly," he said. "We have no more, thanks to your disaster in my workroom. Take this fire wand. Do you know how to use it?"

"Sure. Point it and say the control word. Boom."

"I see you are an expert," he said drily. "Well, don't point it at me. Or yourself," he added, wincing when he saw me thrust the wand through my belt. "Be _careful_ with that." He handed me a ring. "Twist the stone and you'll go invisible. Save it for emergencies. There's only a charge or two left."

He packed his gear into a worn bag and pulled it over his shoulder. He had a staff in one hand. He held his other hand out to me.

"Ready?"

The dimension shift wasn't quite so sickening when I knew to expect it, but I still had to blink aside a moment's dizziness when we arrived back at the Five Flagons playhouse.

"We'll go in invisible. In and out, that's the plan. I've got a tracking spell on the gem. For the gods' sake, keep quiet and try not to antagonize any more planars. Understood?"

"What about Haer'Dalis and the others?"

"What about them?" he asked coolly.

"Can't we…"

"No! No heroics. Whatever trouble they're in, it's their own doing. Not mine. Not yours, for that matter. The chase was over, anyway, and your friends fairly caught. Your Doomguard knew it—did you see him lift a finger to defend himself? Everyone knew it but you."

"Raelis told me they were in deadly peril."

"What, you think they'll be killed over a play? Forgive me, but does that not seem just a trifle over-dramatic?"

"How would I know how things work out there? It may seem trivial to us but…"

"No buts. Oh, I daresay they'll be facing some unpleasant repercussions but use your head. You and I are taking the greater risk here. You think they'd have been captured instead of assassinated if they didn't have high-placed friends? The Sigil Troupe is famous. Sooner or later, someone will bail them out of their mess. Who's going to bail us out?"

Firmly in lecture mode, he didn't wait for an answer.

"We're just a couple of unknown outsiders and if someone decides to make us disappear, no one will lift a finger to help. I will not run myself afoul of any duke or factol and neither, if you have any sense, will you." I opened my mouth. He glared at me. "Do you think I will hesitate to leave you behind if you become a liability?"

I gulped. No, I didn't think he would.

He stooped to take a look at his mechanical contraption.

"Run upstairs and tell Thunderburp to keep everyone out of the playhouse," he said. "This gate's our back door out and I don't want anyone stumbling through it or worse, monkeying with the parameters I set."

When I returned, I barred the theater door as an extra precaution. The innkeeper's look of wild curiosity had not assured me he wouldn't come snooping himself.

"On the other side, the gate will be invisible to anyone but me," he told me. "So stick close and _try_ not to get lost. Are you ready for this?"

I took a breath and nodded. He cast a spell of invisibility over us both. The world turned ghostly. He reached for my hand as if he had no problem seeing me (and I wondered how he pulled that off) and dragged me through the gate.


	8. Clueless

_Author's Note: The holidays slowed me down on this chapter, not to mention the fact that it just didn't want to flow, the pesky thing._

**Chapter 8…Clueless **

I thought the dimension door spell was bad but stepping through the portal was much, much worse. For the longest, most horrid moment, the world was gone and my body with it. I've always thought terror was centered in the body: the racing heart, the panting breath, the urgent need to pee in your pants. But despite the fact that my body was gone—I felt like I was literally a shadow of myself—terror still gripped me. There was no light, no scent or other familiar sensations at all, only relentless unyielding terror.

And then there was light. There was sound. My knees hit the floor and my sides heaved in an urgent need to throw up. I clamped my hands over my mouth (like that would help). If there is a way to vomit discreetly, I don't know it. It's kind of like making love: if you can do it quietly, you're not really doing it.

I swallowed over and over with the juices flowing into my mouth faster than I could get them down. I had no idea where Mekrath was. I grabbed the hilt of my sword for comfort and squeezed it hard. A few more swallows and I felt good enough to pay some actual semi-panicky attention to my surroundings. Luckily, we seemed to be alone.

The room was large, carved out of glowing pale rock, or something that resembled rock. No windows. Was this a cave? I couldn't see the gate back to the Five Flagons but surely it was nearby. A couple of hard ugly benches lined one wall, and a short raised platform was at the end of the room. Corridors led off in three different directions. Which one should I try? This place looked more like a nexus than a room with a dedicated purpose. Surely it wouldn't stay empty long. How was I supposed to know what to do?

Something yanked my hair. My habit of keeping silent while invisible is ingrained but I almost yelped anyway. Mekrath whispered in my ear.

"I can't get a fix on the gem's location. Magic runs thick and heavy in this place and muffles my tracking spell. You're going to have to search for it, light-fingered hero. I'll follow behind. If I get a clue, I'll let you know. Stay out of trouble."

In other words, I was on my own and if I screwed up, I wouldn't be able to give the wizard's position away. Fine, then. Just the way I liked it. I patted myself down to make sure all my gear was still tight and wouldn't rattle.

I've always found snooping and spying exhilarating. I should have been having a great time. I wasn't. If I had known where I was and had an escape route planned, I would have felt more in control. But I had to rely on Mekrath to get me out of here and I had no way to contact him. That was nerve wracking.

_Where in the Nine Hells am I?_ That was one question I wanted answered right away. Was this a keep or castle? An enclosed town perhaps, possibly built underground? There was an oppressive feel to the very air. Like Mekrath had said, magic was strong here—I could feel the Weave press against me like a sodden blanket. The sensation was unpleasant and once I managed to ferret out the purpose of this compound, I could guess why. This was a prison.

Great. In my experience, breaking into a prison is a damned sight easier than breaking back out again.

The prison was huge, but there weren't as many guards as I would have expected. That's because the prisoners each wore a magical collar with a geas built into it. The prisoners basically guarded themselves. Some of them were even armed!

This made little sense to me. Were the rules of magic different on this plane? It takes a lot of power to dominate someone day in and day out. Surely it would be easier to come up with good locks and a horde of guards than the collars and the horde of wizards that must be required to maintain so many enchantments. Perhaps the prisoners were all mages who could waft through mundane locks. Or maybe…maybe the collars were powered by the life energy of the prisoners themselves, in a tainted variation of Mekrath's tantric geas. There did seem to be something foul about this place. I'm no paladin to be sniffing out unholiness but still, the place reeked of perversion.

But maybe that was just my uneasiness talking. My skin crawled with the need to escape. I must have followed a score of guards and listened in on a score of conversations before I finally got more useful information.

When the voices approached, I shrank against the wall, ready to back away if needed. Two fairly human-looking women came around the corner. Behind them was a huge bare-chested man pushing a barrel on a hand cart. He wore one of those chains around his neck that marked him as a prisoner. The chain was all too reminiscent of the spiked collars the gamblers in the Coronet put on their fighting dogs. Something about the man's appearance made me think half-orc but his face looked human enough, no tusks or hairy ears. I moved carefully to the side so he wouldn't brush against me. His nostrils flared and his head swiveled from side to side. Gods, could he smell me?

"Watch it!" one of the women snarled. "You almost ran over my heel." She slipped a thin rod from her pocket and pressed a tab with her thumb. The big guy groaned and staggered. The woman returned the rod to her pocket. Turning to her companion, she said, "I swear, Allin, the longer these thralls are kept, the stupider they get. I wish the Warden would feed this one to his flying pet."

"Toss him down one of the oubliettes. Who would care?"

"Don't tempt me."

"Heard some barrikin by the gate earlier. The Warden's bashers brought in fresh meat, I'm thinking."

"Yeah, Aawill finally scragged those actors from Sigil. Poor sods. They won't be here long, or so I hear."

"Why's that?"

"Don't know the dark of it. That's just what I heard."

They clattered down the hall, the thrall trudging behind with his load.

I moved along. This area appeared to be prisoner housing, and it didn't seem likely I'd find Mekrath's gem here.

I about jumped out of my skin when I came upon the herd of umber hulks, until I saw the almost invisible shield barrier that kept them in place. Were they prisoners, pets or guards? I thought I walked quietly but they lunged towards the shield when I passed them. I wasn't sure if they sensed me by scent or by the vibrations of my movements. I covered my eyes, in case their gaze could pass through the barrier, and scuttled past.

I passed more cells that looked like barracks, except for the shimmering fields closing them off. After watching guards pass through the field unchecked, I discovered by ginger experimentation that I could do so as well. I suspected it was the collars the prisoners wore that kept them from leaving their cells. For the most part, the prisoners appeared to be kept in unsupervised groups, with the guards used mainly to direct work gangs. Twice I saw a couple of prisoners fighting, once over food and once for no discernable cause. Their fellows stood around egging on the violence and the lone guard who passed cast a cursory look into their cell and kept on moving.

Male prisoners seemed to outnumber female by a large number. I've noticed this discrepancy in every prison I've ever been in. (Visiting, of course. I've only been jailed once. Well, twice. Make that three times but the first two times weren't my fault.) I wondered what would happen if a guard without a control rod got caught in a cell. How comprehensive was the collar's geas anyway? I wondered what would happen if _I_ got caught. I'd been worried about the guards but was I any safer with the prisoners? I shivered.

I moved swiftly past the various cells, which seemed to get smaller and more specialized as I moved deeper into the complex. Here was a group of githyanki, here some gnomes (I guess it made sense to keep the little folk segregated from the big folk but I wondered about the nature of their crime) and here—sweet Sune, it was the Sigil Troupe!

Their room looked more like a cheap inn room than a jail cell. This must be a holding area for special prisoners and I didn't know if that was good news or bad. Raelis and the two actors I'd scarcely met sat at a small table. Raelis had her head in her hands. She looked pale and ill. Haer'Dalis stood apart, with his back against the wall, in a spot that gave him a view of the corridor. His face was calm and remote. His expression was so strongly reminiscent of his look when we had last made love that I felt a sudden catch in my throat.

I fancied I could feel the stare of Mekrath's disapproval when I slipped into the tieflings' cell. That was assuming, of course, that he was still following me. For all I knew, he'd gone back through his portal and left me here. Screw him. I crept up to Haer'Dalis.

"Psst," I said in his ear. Before I could speak, he whirled about, his hands going to his sword belt. They'd left him his weapons. What kind of prison was this, anyway? They sure had an awful lot of confidence in those collars. "Quiet," I whispered and I gave his arm a good hard pinch. "It's me, Minette. Don't say anything."

All this activity had startled the others, of course.

"What is it, Haer'Dalis?" Raelis said. She jerked upright and looked fearfully about.

"I apologize, Miss Raelis," he said. "I have a cramp in my leg, that is all."

"Then walk it off," she said, speaking with more sharpness than I had ever heard from her. He bowed with such exquisite irony that I gathered these were not her first irritated words. And by her sour look, they would not be the last.

"Thank you, I will." He drifted off towards the back of the cell, where a privy nestled between short privacy walls. Next to that was a small sleeping room with six cots jammed in, three to a side. Haer'Dalis couldn't see me, of course, but he held out his hand. I took it. He ran his hands up my arm, to my shoulders.

"Is it truly you?" he breathed. I stepped into his arms. His arms closed around me, gingerly in wonder, and then hard, in belief. The hilt of one of his swords dug into my side. "No, this is wrong. What madness brings you here?"

"I…" I couldn't tell him all the truth, not about Mekrath's presence. If I was captured, he was my only hope for escape. "Mekrath sent me after his gem."

A complexity of emotion passed over his face—had he thought I'd come here to rescue him? I felt a flush of shame that my motives had not been so pure. I was glad I was invisible, that he couldn't read my face.

Haer'Dalis tightened his arms around me. When he bent his head, there was a slight metallic rustle from the collar around his neck.

"My dove, the wizard has set you a difficult task. The gem has been passed on to the Warden of this prison and I do not know how you can retrieve it. He is an exceedingly dangerous man."

"In what way?"

"He is a cambion and a wizard as well." One hand rose towards his collar then dropped away before his fingers brushed the links. "I fear that he or that demon of his will see through the spell that cloaks you from my view."

"His demon?" This just got better and better.

"The Master of Thralls. The demon is fearsome, Minette. He possesses the device that controls the collars of all the prisoners in this place. At his command, every one of us will turn against you. We caged birds are our own guards in this place, and the demon's magic has placed Chaos and Entropy into his service."

"Chaos and Entropy?"

"My swords, dove. Should the demon command me, I must fight for him. Any attempt to resist the commands of the device brings on the most excruciating pain."

"What is this device? Have you seen it?"

"I believe the power is contained within a jewel the demon wears around his neck. I only saw it briefly when he sealed this collar to me."

"So if I were to take this gem, I could…" I stopped. Was I proposing stealing from a demon? That sounded more than a little mad. And if I succeeded, did I propose to take his place and control the prisoners through their collars? Some of the prisoners were armed but most were not. They vastly outnumbered the guards but still…

Haer'Dalis, who seemed to be following my thoughts, murmured, "My sweet bird, were we free, many of us would require no compulsion to turn upon our captors. This is a cruel captivity, one that saps one's will and one's hope. Most here would do anything to escape." His hands ran up my back. "But to set yourself against the Master of Thralls—it is a frightful risk. I would not see a chain about your fair neck. That the wizard would risk you in such a way makes me…" He took a breath and then breathed out the word, "Angry. How could he possibly value his gem over your own life and freedom?"

I had no answer to that, of course, so I rose up to kiss him. One of my hands brushed the collar and a shock singed my fingers. I jerked away, barely keeping myself from crying out in pain.

"My dove?"

"Your chain bit me."

"Ah. We are under geas not to handle the collar but I did not realize that it protects itself from others as well. That is logical, I suppose."

I leaned into him to take a better look at the collar. The protection felt electrical in nature. Surely its charges were not unlimited and could be discharged.

"I don't suppose you have a pair of gloves on you," I asked.

"No. What did you—no, you must not attempt this, Minette. I cannot allow…"

Would the geas force him to stop me from exploring the collar? I wrapped my handkerchief around my hand and pulled my good dagger.

"Hold still. You're alone, remember? I'm not here and I'm not doing anything. Close your eyes and meditate or something."

"Meditate?"

"Act, actor. There's nobody here but you and your thoughts."

I touched the blade to his collar. I could still feel the shock but it didn't bite quite so hard, or so it seemed. I tried again. And again. And a dozen more times. By the time the protection spell was depleted, my hand was so numb that I'd dropped the dagger three times. I picked it up in my off hand.

"Now," I whispered. "Hold very, very still."

I wiggled the point of the blade between two spiky links and twisted. The links were tougher than they looked; the tip of my blade snapped off. This was an enchanted blade; that wasn't supposed to happen. I swallowed a curse and tried again. The blade slipped. If I wasn't careful, I might give Haer'Dalis a nasty cut. A dagger was the wrong tool for this. I needed the small pry bar I'd left in my room at the guild house. I looked around and didn't see anything that would make a useful substitute.

"Kneel down for a moment."

He did so without questioning me. I brushed his hair out of the way. My hands are strong but they needed to be stronger. Luckily I had just the spell for that. A few whispered words, and as the power surged into me, I thrust the blade as far as it would go into one of the links and used both hands to twist it.

Haer'Dalis's head jerked back from the pressure on the collar. A little more…a little more…oh gods, my grip wasn't good enough…or was it?

When the link broke, it released a silent blast of energy that threw me backwards. I hit the bed behind me and slammed it against the wall. Splinters of my expensive blade tinkled to the floor; what was left in my hand was the mundane hilt.

The collar dropped into Haer'Dalis's hands. He gave it a wondering look.

"What was that?" Raelis's voice was sharp and frightened.

"My clumsiness, Miss Raelis, nothing more."

She made an exasperated sound but seemed satisfied. My head rang from the backlash of the spell on the collar. It had been damned potent. Haer'Dalis, feeling around with his hands, finally found my knee. He ran his hands up my body as I sat up.

"My dove," he whispered. "Are you hurt?"

"Only half-fried," I muttered. He gripped me harder. "I'm fine, I'm fine."

"Minette, 'twas a valiant effort yet a foolish one," he said. "If anyone sees I've been freed, I will be collared again." He cast an uneasy look towards the other room. "Even my companions can be turned against me, to hinder or to inform."

"Give me the collar." I tore a strip from my handkerchief and used it to tie his collar back in place. "If anyone examines this closely, the gig's up but maybe the guards won't notice the difference. Just act like you're controlled until you get a chance to escape."

He brought my hands to his lips.

"I must go," I whispered. "If there's a way I can…"

"No. Make no promises. You have already given me the ghost of a hope." I pressed his hand before I flitted out of the room.

So this pocket hell had a demon, and if the collars were his work, a very powerful one he was. Great. I did not want to tangle with a demon. What I needed was a map of this compound so I could plot a way around the fiend. What I needed was a way around the demon and the cambion both, so I could lift the gem and sneak out with my skin intact. Of course, that would mean leaving Haer'Dalis and the others to their fate. I'd done what I could to help. Hadn't I? Did I look like a hero who could take on a demon?

Argh. I tried not to grind my teeth. This was a really, really bad time to grow a conscience. I knew it. And Mekrath knew it. He pounced on me as soon as I slid out of the tieflings' cell. With a yank of my hair (I really wished he'd stop doing that) he steered me into an alcove.

"You were in there a very long time," he whispered. Was that an accusation? Maybe he thought I'd stopped for a quickie. Instead of the various sharp remarks that came to mind, I told him what I'd learned from Haer'Dalis. There was a long silence. I wished I could see his face.

"A demon and a cambion," he finally said. "This does not sound good."

"No shit! Still…there aren't many guards here. They rely on those collars to keep everyone in line. If we could block the magic to the collars…"

"Yes, yes, the place would collapse. We are not here to instigate a prison revolt, Minette."

"Well, I don't want to tangle with a demon. Is getting your gem back so damned important?"

"Now more than ever. I made great sacrifices to obtain that gem; sacrifices that unfortunately left it tied to my own magic. Leaving the gem in the hands of a demon or even another mage like this cambion opens me up to greater risk than I care to permit. So put those clever fingers of yours to work. The sooner we get out of here the better."

"I'm open to suggestion," I said drily.

"Find the gem. At that point, our strategy should become obvious."

In other words, he had no more idea than I did. Clueless berks, both of us. Oh, well, if you can't go back, go on.

I knew I was getting close when the rooms began sporting actual doors instead of the clear shields and the guards became both more plentiful and less busy. The surroundings were plusher as well and most telling of all, no collars in sight.

Where the doors were open, I slipped inside for a quick peek. This corridor seemed to contain offices or work areas. Where would the Warden keep the gem—in his personal quarters or in a treasure room of some sort? I supposed that depended upon what value he placed upon it and what use he had for it.

Raised voices caught my attention and once I heard the word 'Warden' mentioned, I soft-footed my way closer to eavesdrop.

"Hey, Rathe, you don't want to let me see him, no problem. Take him a message then."

"The Warden can't be disturbed."

"Can't be disturbed, my ass. Stir your stumps, leatherhead, or there'll be trouble. I've got the Warden's bounty hunters squawking for their pay and Darkwood's men shouting for their prisoners."

"They're early."

"You want to have them telling the Duke you said that? Think they should be as butt-lazy as you, Rathe? Tell them that to their face, berk. They're a right ugly looking bunch."

"We're talking about a handful of actors. What's the sodding rush?"

"Don't know, don't care. But they've already paid; reckon they think they're entitled to their goods."

"Hand 'em over then."

"No can do. Haven't been released into general population, now, have they? Won't come along to my rod, now, will they? Unless you plan on handing me the Master Orb, I need them to be processed. And besides, I need the Warden's seal on the paperwork. And don't forget the jink for the bashers."

"Go see the Master of Thralls."

"Think I'm addle-coved?" The fellow gave an exaggerated shudder. "Don't get paid enough for that."

"Then come back tomorrow." Then Rathe leaned closer and dropped his voice. I crept closer myself. "Here's the dark. Warden's just summoned him up a succubus, see? They're in his chamber right now, buffing every horizontal surface, if you catch my drift. I'm not going in there, and if you're smart, you won't either."

"I, ah, yeah, I get your point. I'll let Aawill and the other bashers know. They won't want to cross the Warden. But see, I've got the duke's men raising Nine Hells in the visitor's lobby. What am I supposed to do with them?"

"How should I know? Use your brain-box for something other than keeping your ears warm. Get them a room. Send in some razorwine. Issue them a guest rod and let them amuse themselves with the thralls."

"Yeah, but…"

"Now go roll your cap on out of here. I've got work to do."

I hugged the wall and waited. Once the messenger took himself off, still muttering under his breath, Rathe, who I assumed was the Warden's secretary, gave a surreptitious look around and then apparently decided to award himself the afternoon off.

As soon as he'd hurried away, I tried the door. It wasn't even locked! Things weren't going to get any better than this. I opened the door a crack. Silence. I slid inside and eased the door closed. I was in the Warden's sitting room. There was a desk along one side, and a couple of chairs next to a high table that looked like a bar. There was another door and it was also closed. This one was locked and when I put my ear against it, I heard nothing.

The bar had little of interest (although the thought of a quick drink held some appeal—my nerves were shot). The desk was unlocked. I rifled through it. I found a heavy metallic cylinder that tingled with magic and had a dark smear on the end that looked like blood. I got all excited for a moment until I decided it was the Warden's seal, a prize for the in-house peculators but of no use to me. Other than that, the desk was a bust. Plenty of paper but no gem, no keys, and no control rods. Not even any loose coin to scoop up.

I didn't see a trap on the inner door. The lock was intricate and strange but I managed to pick it open. I didn't hear the moans through the thick, heavy door until I cracked it open. I crouched low while my eyes adjusted to the dim light. My invisibility still held but I was scared the cambion might see right through it somehow, like Haer'Dalis had warned me.

But it looked like the cambion was a mite busy at the moment, assuming that those pumping muscular buttocks were his. I didn't really want to look. I'm not much of a spectator—if I can't play I'm not interested in the game—but why was he standing by the bed instead of lying in it? And was that a cloak hanging off his arm? No, that was one of the succubus's leathery wings. I couldn't quite make sense of the position at first. Was she bent over that chest? I blinked. Oh, my. Well, she certainly was limber. And he certainly was big. Broad back, slim hips, tall—my goodness, he was tall—and big. The succubus's wings shifted, the cambion pulled back and I got an eyeful. I've seen some big serpents but his took the trophy. He wasn't a fun kind of big, like Haer'Dalis; he was definitely the scary kind of big. Was this what fiendish blood did to a man? Yikes.

I shook my head to try to get it back on my job. Where was the gem? And how could I get it without being seen? At least I didn't have to do anything to distract the Warden.

There was so much magic in the room that I couldn't get a read on the gem. Well, I had eyes, didn't I? A good place to start seemed to be the clothes strewn across the floor. I crept over to his breeches, felt the pockets. Nothing. I lifted up my head to look about. Where would he empty his pockets? The dresser seemed an obvious choice.

Softly, softly, I padded around the huge empty bed to check the top of the tall dresser. A carved tray looked promising. I stretched up to peek into it and something blue winked back at me. My breath caught in my throat. The gem! Could it really be so easy? I took it gingerly in my hand, slid it into my pants pocket…

"Oi! You there! We're looking for the Warden."

My heart did that jerk of utter terror that no doubt shortens the lifespan of thieves everywhere. The door I'd carefully closed behind me now stood wide open. Two men blocked the way out—two of the bounty hunters, the half-elf and his tiefling sidekick. They weren't looking at me though. My invisibility spell still held.

The cambion whipped his head around. His expression was ferocious. I saw the look of stunned horror on the half-elf's face as he realized what he had just walked into.

"Ah, sorry there, my lord. I thought…I was looking for…we just wanted…" He tried to back out but Goat-boy was too busy staring at the succubus to clear the door. I slunk back against the dresser and my lips moved in fervent prayer. _Mystra and Tymora, I swear I will be more faithful and careful in the future if you get me out of this now!_

"How did you get in here, Aawill?" the Warden thundered. The half-elf made a helpless wave at the door. The Warden's voice became more ominous. "That door was locked."

"N…no, my lord. It was not."

The Warden frowned. The succubus made a cry of protest when he pulled himself out of her. He strode towards the bounty hunters.

"You dare to lie to me?"

The look on their faces made it clear they didn't dare even speak. I didn't dare even breathe. The Warden slowly swung his head about the room and frowned. Could he see me? I couldn't tell by his expression. He spoke several guttural words and gestured. He cast a dispel that stripped away my invisibility and my spell protections as well.

It's always seemed to me that people who faint from terror miss out on some really nightmarish moments. Like the one where the cambion lifted me up with one huge hand and shook me like a rat.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Minette," I squeaked, too stupid to think of a false name. Not like it really mattered. "I…uh…I…" For a moment, I'd forgotten the secretary's name but it popped back to me. "Rathe sent me. He needed something signed…I'll come back later when you're not so, uh, so busy."

"She's lying," the succubus said.

"She damn sure is," said the half-elf. "That's the berk we found with the actors when we nabbed them off the Prime."

What happened next was not very pretty.


	9. God's Blood

_Author's Note: Happy New Year to all!_

**Chapter 9…God's Blood**

The Warden put his hands around my neck and started to squeeze. As my sight went dark and my knees went weak, I had time for one last thought: _So much for the power of prayer!_ Curses on all the gods anyway, starting with my dead father.

"Don't kill it," said a light, sultry voice from behind the Warden's shoulder. The awful pressure at my throat lessened slightly. "Not yet. Let me see it."

The Warden let go. I fell back against the wall and sucked in a great breath. While I choked and gasped, the succubus crowded past him to look me over. She had wide dark eyes (that reminded me very much of Haer'Dalis) and wide dark lips. She was as naked as the Warden and her figure was…improbable. When she leaned into me, her scaled tail twitched against my calves in a slow caress. She ran her long nails across my bruised throat. At my wince, she gave me a tiny smile that didn't show her teeth. I suspected that was a good thing.

"Why, look, it's a god's child—and the spawn of one of the dark gods, if I'm not mistaken. Isn't that right, sweetling?"

I nodded.

"Bhaal." My voice came out cracked and hoarse.

"The Lord of Murder?" When her lips parted, I caught a glitter of something sharp. "How very interesting." She gave me another of those close-lipped smiles and her hand dropped to my shoulder. "Has the time for Alaundo's prophesy come so soon? Are you an assassin like your sire? Killed many of your siblings yet?"

"I've only met one, my brother Sarevok," I said. "But I did end up killing him. Are there many more of us?"

"By all accounts, Bhaal littered Faerûn with your kin. Surely they can't all be dead yet. If I've missed the fun, I'll be so vexed." She gave me a pout-smile. "This brother of yours, was he…puissant?"

Her hand dropped to my breast. I blinked.

"Oh, yeah, he was puissant all right. In fact…"

"Enough of this nonsense," the Warden growled. He shoved the succubus aside and put his hand back on my throat.

"Let's keep it," she said. "I want to play with it."

"Why should I let a sneaking, lying outsider spy live?"

"Is god's blood so common that you can pour it out like dirty bathwater?" She pressed her breasts against his arm and ran her hand down his back. My position didn't give me a great view but I suspected she stroked his nether regions. Yikes.

"Why not? I have no use for a dead god's mongrel." He gave me another shake.

"There are those who do."

The cambion leaned over me. His breath was worse than a dead dog on a hot day. I shrank back against the wall.

"True enough. I might find a buyer."

I guess I was lucky that the Warden was anxious to get back to his activities, for he turned me over to the bounty hunters.

"Aawill, Von'ith. Take her to the Master of Thralls," he told them. "Tell him to collar her and hold her until I come to interrogate her myself." Then he slammed the door behind us.

The silence dragged on as we stared at each other. I felt my sore throat. Two against one aren't terrible odds but these two looked rather formidable.

"Thought I'd seen some berks in my life," Aawill said. "But you take the cake. Came blitzing through that gate after us, did you? Now why would you do something so sodding stupid?"

As he spoke, he pulled out my wand and set it on the desk. Next he unbuckled my sword belt. Then the search got more personal as he emptied out my pockets. He found the padded bundle that held my potions, my slim case of lock picks and finally, the planar gem. His eyes opened wide.

"You came here for that?" he asked incredulously. Guess he recognized it from the playhouse. "Talk about taking the cake! Hope you think it's worth it."

"Especially after she meets the Master of Thralls," the tiefling said. He snickered but Aawill frowned.

"We're going to have to go see him ourselves, leatherhead. Does that sound good to you? I was hoping to avoid that treat myself." In irritation, he gave me a shove that made me stumble into the wall. He picked up the gem and gave it a last look. "What's so important about this sparkle anyway?"

"Gift from my mother," I mumbled. "Sentimental value."

"Yeah, sure. Hide your dark while you can. The cambion will pry all your secrets out of you." He put the gem in his right pants pocket and motioned for Von'ith to pick up the rest of my gear.

"That succubus sure got me hot," the tiefling complained, as he shoved my stuff into his pack. "Did you see the tits on her? I wouldn't mind wearing the Warden's boots right about now."

"Not me," said Aawill. "When I swive a girl I like to know I'll end up with all my favorite bits still intact. I stay away from those long-toothed beauties."

The first time Von'ith put his hand on my ass, it may have been an accident. The second time was not.

"Hands off the merchandise, Goat-boy," I told him.

"Don't call me that."

"Keep your dirty hooves off me then."

With a growl, he twisted one arm behind my back. With the other hand, he grabbed my ass and gave it a squeeze. Von'ith leered down at me to check my reaction. When I squirmed, he slid his hand down my pants and started kneading me in earnest. He pressed up against me. When I jerked away, he laughed and released my arm so he could put his other hand down my pants. His height made him lean down pretty far. That's when I let him have it.

I slammed my elbow into his jaw as hard as I could. That hurt him worse than it hurt me. I hoped so anyway because the pain flared up my arm in a way I'd regret later. Then I tried to kick straight through his knee. Too bad my strength spell had been dispelled but still, his leg collapsed. He roared with pain. He reached for me but I danced back—right into the half-elf's arms. Ack! Where had he come from? He'd been on my other side. I tried to twist out of his grasp and almost succeeded until he grabbed a fistful of my hair and slammed me against the corridor wall.

"I'm going to kill that little prod," Von'ith said.

"Let's just take her to the demon. That's payback enough, don't you think?"

"No, I don't. I'm going to scrub her good. She broke my sodding kneecap."

"You can stand on it, can't you?" Aawill said, with more than a touch of scorn. The tiefling scowled as he rubbed his knee. He grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. Then he gave me a hard slap that sent me back against the wall. He slapped me two or three more times. A lot of guys are reluctant to use their fists on small women but I could tell he was working himself out of that little quirk. His friend saw it too.

"Easy there, Von'ith," said the half-elf. "We don't want to have to carry her, eh?"

"She doesn't look that heavy."

Now I have no moral objection to begging for my life, but I figured appealing to Goat-boy would be like throwing grease on a hot stove. So I turned my pitiful eyes to Aawill.

Who shrugged, cuffed me and said, "Should have kept your mouth shut, berk."

People were always saying that kind of thing to me. I'm not sure why.

The short, brutish interlude that followed left me on the floor gasping and retching.

I'm not exactly sure how normal people react to a beating. I've been around adventurers too long and none of us are normal. I don't like pain—I hate it, to be clear—but a beating doesn't make me fall apart. (It does sometimes make my taint kick in and I was already starting to feel hot behind the eyes.) My thoughts ran along two paths: _I hope I don't get too messed up_ was one. And _I hope my turn to hit comes soon, _was the other.

"Von'ith," said the half-elf. "Maybe you should try rubbing over scrubbing. Less mess, you know?"

I didn't quite follow this but Von'ith apparently did.

"Right here?" He looked down the corridor. A couple of guards were still in sight; they had passed by with no comment or interference a moment earlier.

"Find an empty room," Aawill suggested. The two men exchanged one of those exclusively masculine glances. Oh. I guess they meant _that_ kind of rubbing. Great. At my look, Aawill said, "Hey, I'm doing you a favor, clueless. Would you rather lose teeth?"

Some favor. Maybe I'd get the chance to do him one. Goat-boy, tail lashing, dragged me to my feet. I was pleased to see him limping, but not thrilled to be pushed into an empty storeroom. Hurray for social conventions. My rape would take place in privacy.

Now was the time for a spell. Now was the time for a good, _quick_ spell. As soon as he shut the door, I moaned and bent over like I was going to be sick. The tiefling let go of my collar and stepped back so I wouldn't vomit on his feet again. I whispered the words to the Blur spell and came up with my hide-out dagger in my hand. The berks hadn't checked my boots.

I stood. Before he realized I was armed, I slashed the tiefling's throat. Papa Bhaal would have been proud. I thought the wound was mortal but I didn't get time to admire my work; Aawill drew his blade. There wasn't much room to maneuver in the crowded storeroom, and the stacked boxes and barrels hindered us equally. My spell made me hard to hit but by no means invulnerable.

"If you kill me, the Warden's going to be pissed," I said.

"Doubt it."

I jumped back from his attack. Parrying was never my strong point.

"Well, the succubus is going to be pissed."

"Who cares?" He slashed at my arm. Hit me, too. Cut my sleeve, drew blood. "So that's god's blood, is it? Looks like any other blood."

"It's not. You want Bhaal's curse following you around?"

"Sounds like a load of tief to me. Why don't you do something god-like?" He cut me again. Same arm, too. The first cut was little more than a scratch. This one was deeper. "Impress me."

There was a low whisper of words and suddenly my skin shimmered.

"Your pathetic spell-slinging doesn't impress me."

Maybe not but it impressed me, because it wasn't my spell. Already scrambling for my life, I jolted into hyper-awareness. The half-elf cocked his blade, ready to cut my arm off this time. Abandoning the chance for a counter-attack (which I didn't have the reach for anyway), I leapt backward. I managed to knock over a crate and roll behind it. A blinding white flash of lightning ripped from the empty air behind Aawill and struck his back. I threw myself flat on the ground. The bolt bounced, striking the wall and reflecting back at him.

There should have been thunder. Such destruction should have been accompanied by a terrifying racket. But the lightning zigged and zagged across the room in silence, only broken by the wet sounds that came when it hit what soon became nothing but meat. I shut my eyes but they burned with afterimages. Or perhaps the light was so bright that it burned right through my eyelids.

The bolt seemed to ricochet endlessly in the small enclosed room. Or maybe there were new bolts. Cowering on the floor, I couldn't quite tell where all the lightning came from. I just knew it was _everywhere_. I was hit several times myself but was miraculously unharmed.

Well, there was no miracle to it, of course. It was the protective spell my savior had cast on me. When the lightning finally fizzled away, the storeroom door opened.

"What took you so long?" I snapped.

"Now that's gratitude for you," Mekrath replied. He shimmered in the doorway, with his invisibility mostly worn off but still blurring his figure. He moved into the shadow behind the door.

"If you want my gratitude, show up before the bad guys beat the crap out of me and not after."

"Told you not to antagonize the planars," he murmured. "Dead, are they?"

"Cooked," I said, wrinkling my nose at the smell. "I hate to tell you this, but your gem is in that fellow's pocket." Not that there was much left of him. Or his pocket.

"Lightning won't harm the gem. Fish it out."

"Me? Touch _that_? I think not." Aawill hadn't just been cooked. He'd been partially blown to pieces. But in the end, of course, I was the one who had to pat and prod and dig around in the disgusting remains. Give the dirty work to the Bhaalspawn, right?

Right.

I felt a little better once I'd retrieved my sword and collected the rest of my gear. I jammed Mekrath's wand into my waistband and opened up my wet, squashed bundle of potions. All of my healing potions but one had broken, damn it. I drank the last one down. As its cool magic washed away my cuts and bruises, some of my irritability washed away as well.

"Hand me the gem and let's fly," Mekrath said.

I looked up from pocketing the disappointing amount of coin in the tiefling's purse. I'd also picked up Aawill's very nice blade and was trying to decide what to do with it. Haer'Dalis could pull off hanging two swords from his belt but I'd feel like an idiot trying to emulate him. Probably hurt myself, too. Maybe I could get Mekrath to jam it into his pack although the mulish look on his face was not very promising.

"The gem is safe in my pocket." I'd tucked it into my hidden inner pocket this time.

"You've already lost it once. Give it to me."

My eyes narrowed.

"You must think I just fell off the pumpkin wagon," I said. "Do I look that naïve? If I hand over the gem now, what's to keep you from leaving me here if things get hairy?"

"Mistrust engenders mistrust," he said sententiously. With more urgency, he said, "The point is to get out of here before things get any hairier. Listen, fool, that gem is a beacon to anyone sensitive to planar energies. It will be safer for us both if I carry it."

"Guess we'd better move fast then. How are we going to get the actors out of here? I wanted to steal one of the control rods and just walk them out but from what I hear, that won't work. I heard something about needing a Master Orb or something. So do you know how to drop one of those cage shields or should I go look for the orb?"

Mekrath slapped the side of my head. Hard, too.

"Ow!"

"Corellon Larethian, save me from idiots! No, I do not know how to neutralize the shields. If you have some half-baked heroic plan to wrestle the tanar'ri for control of this demiplane, all I can say is—_shit!_"

Mekrath disappeared. I whirled around as the door flew open. Four men crowded around the doorway. One stepped in.

"That must be the one the Warden's looking for," he said. He took in the bodies and wrinkled his nose. "A spell-slinger, huh? I hate spell-slingers." His lips turned down. "Berk, you've just piked yourself over but good."


	10. The Master of Thralls

**Chapter 10…The Master of Thralls**

There were four of them and one of me. Not great odds unless Mekrath jumped in with another one of his miracles. Surrender or fight? I guess the fellow in the doorway saw the question in my eyes—he settled it with a punch that sent me reeling back into a stack of crates. Obviously he was not one of those men with inhibitions about hitting small women. He kicked me while I was down, then picked me up by the back of my vest and slung me out into the corridor. One of his friends mashed my face against the wall and jerked my arms up behind my back.

It all happened very quickly.

My captors didn't bother to search me. Instead they bound my hands behind my back, jammed a gag in my mouth to keep me from 'spell-slinging' and shoved me along the corridor. I got the impression they'd done this kind of thing before. They were all human (or close) and were dressed alike in dark pants and a tunic with a red badge sewn on the breast. None of the guards I'd seen in the prison so far wore uniforms. Who were these guys?

"Where are we going?" one asked.

"The Warden said to take her to the Master of Thralls."

I stopped dead and earned a shove in the back that almost knocked me down.

"Get going." I'd never been gagged before and I did not like it. When I glared, he gave me another shove. "You're in deep blek as it is. Keep being a prod and I'll bash your brain-box and drag you by the hair."

I got going.

"Master of Thralls, huh? He's going to deliver the goods?"

"Warden says so. Says the actors are ready to go."

"Finally."

"I hear you. Darkwood's torqued off this has dragged on so long."

The men fell silent. Before long we were in a section of the prison I hadn't seen yet. I was getting that sick feeling in my gut that you get when there's something really, really bad up ahead. Even my escorts' feet slowed. The corridor widened—why did that seem ominous?—and the closed door at the end of the hall loomed like the gateway to a particularly loathsome hell.

One of the planars opened the door, looking none too happy about it. A hand at my back shoved me through and kept me in the lead. I was so busy looking around for the demon that I didn't see the three steps ahead of me until I fell down them. No one bothered to catch me and with my hands behind my back, the best I could do was roll and land on my shoulder instead of my nose.

So it was from the vantage of the floor that I looked up—and up and up—into the face of the Master of Thralls.

He was a nabassu. I don't know that I fear any one of the greater tanar'ri over another. They're all scary. But if I did, nabassu would be high on my list. The clawed feet, the long dirty talons and the jointed wings were bad. The burning yellow eyes and the huge discolored fangs were worse. The stench was overwhelming.

"Get up, mortal."

The cold flat voice was pretty bad too, I decided.

The nabassu stepped closer, close enough that I could have touched one of those scaly toes if my hands had been free—if I'd wanted to. I didn't want to. I scrabbled to get my feet under me. Someone, moved by compassion or perhaps only expediency, grabbed the back of my vest and yanked me upright.

The demon leaned over me. A bright round stone hung on a tarnished chain around his neck. The stone swung towards my face. I shrank back. Foulness flowed from that stone in an icy wave. If it touched me—gods, I felt sick just looking at it. The demon couldn't flare his nostrils, since they were set flat in his face, but I heard a distinct sniff as he took in my scent. My captors, I noticed, had backed most of the way to the door.

"Remove the gag."

"Yes, my lord."

One of the men pulled his knife and cut through the cloth knotted around my face. He sheared off a thick lock of my hair in his haste. I was too terrified to complain but my tiny surge of indignation helped clear my mind. I wiggled my hands in invitation but he didn't take the hint to cut them loose as well.

_Tymora, no—name your reckoning but do not leave me bound before this fiend._

"Our payment, my lord?"

My tongue was as thick and dry as a dirty sock. I felt more than a little relief when those unblinking yellow eyes shifted to the man behind me. He swallowed and went pale but he soldiered on.

"You were to deliver us the Sigil Troupe?"

"Ah. You are the Duke of Darkwood's men." The man gave a nervous nod. "The rod you need is on the table behind me. Any of the thralls can direct you to the actors' cell."

The leader scooted past the demon and snatched up the rod. The four of them hastened to the hall, leaving me alone with the Master of Thralls.

The nabassu circled about me. Studying me, I supposed. I swiveled my head to keep an eye on him.

"I don't suppose you'd cut me loose? My hands have gone numb."

At least my voice was working, more or less. He made no response but I felt his hot stinking breath stir my hair. A claw scraped my back and then my hands were free. The sudden release of the strain in my arms and shoulders would have been a joyful relief if I wasn't so close to pissing myself in fright.

"Thanks." I rubbed my wrists. He'd circled back in front of me, which was an improvement of sorts. "You should know that I don't belong here. I mean, there's no bounty out on me or anything. I wandered into this prison by accident and you've no right to—ack!"

The nabassu sank his talons into my shoulder and dragged me towards the dark table in the back of the room. The table looked like it was carved from black onyx (although it probably wasn't). The room itself was huge. This place was bigger than a dance hall but I had a feeling I wasn't going to enjoy the music. And the partner was not at all to my taste.

Now I've run against evil before. Hells, my own brother was an evil, evil man, who delighted in death and destruction. Yet compared to this demon, Sarevok's evil was a homely, comfortable human type of evil—that of a little boy pulling wings off butterflies (or avariel). His evil had a point to it, an evil that led to an objective that which, while it appalled and shocked me, I could at least understand. The nabassu's evil was something utterly different. It served no purpose; this evil _was_ the demon's purpose. It was its nature and with almost every fiber of my being, I wanted to crawl away from this horror.

Almost every fiber—for as the succubus had noted, I was Bhaal's child. There was a tiny spark within me that brightened. It was that spark that kept me from collapsing into a puddle on the floor, even when I saw the collar waiting on the table.

"I hope you're not planning on putting that on me. Like I said, you've no right…"

The demon casually slammed me into the table. It might not be onyx but it was certainly hard enough to knock the breath out of me, at a time when I desperately needed my voice.

"I can see why the duke's men gagged you."

I finally sucked in a deep mouth of air, and wheezed it out as a spell. Quick and fervent as a prayer, I called up my last Stoneskin. The spell forced the demon's claws out of my flesh and with a twist and a dodge, I broke free from him. I ran around the back of the table. I guess the demon had too much dignity to chase after me like I was a mouse in the pantry. He just stood there for a moment and watched me. I jerked my eyes away from his burning stare before I lost my nerve.

It was an awfully long way to the door. In the unlikely event I could win the race for it, then what? Let him chase me down the hall? I needed to disappear but would he be able to see through a spell? There was one way to find out. Mekrath had told me to save the invisibility ring for emergencies—well, this seemed like a frigging big emergency to me. I gave the ring a twist.

The demon's roar of frustration was sweet bard song to my ears. I ran for the door. Anticipating me, the demon spread his wings and took to the air. The ceiling was high but not that high—he barely cleared the ground. I swerved and ducked to keep him from brushing against me as he flew towards the door to cut off my escape.

I saw no other way out. This was not good.

I opened my mouth to quiet my panting and raced through my options. That didn't take long; I couldn't think of any. How long could I expect to hide before the demon called someone to throw a couple of dispels around and reveal me?

"Do not force me to sniff you out, mortal."

Stupid, stupid, I was so stupid! Mekrath's fire wand had been poking me in the side, a constant irritation since I'd stepped through the portal to this prison, and now that I could use the thing, where in the Nine Hells was it? When had it fallen out of my belt? I looked around in a panic. And saw it—right by the steps, practically under the demon's foot.

The gods hate me. They really do.

Did I want to get close enough for the demon to smell me? I did not. Did I have a better idea? No again. I was getting thin on spells and not one of them was worth giving away my position.

The demon spread his wings, presumably to keep me from slipping behind him. I crept closer.

"This delay is pointless and serves only to annoy me." The demon's long ears swiveled in my direction. I froze. My heart thumped like a drum. I don't know how long we both stood there, motionless, waiting for someone to break the stalemate.

Someone did.

The door opened behind the demon. The nabassu whirled and hissed at the newcomer, who stepped back in horror. It was one of the duke's men. His tunic was ripped at the chest and damp with blood.

"Why do you disturb me, mortal?" The demon's voice had been scary before; now it was much, much worse.

The planar gulped.

"There is a problem."

"There is about to be a bigger problem," the nabassu said, with distinct menace. Instead of cowing him, this threat stiffened the man's resolve. It stiffened my resolve as well. Would I get a better opportunity? I crept forward, walking in a crouch to quiet my steps as much as possible.

"The rod you gave us does not work properly," the man said, with the beginning of belligerence in his tone. Nothing like getting the crap scared out of you to make you pissed. I've noted the phenomenon many times. "One of the tieflings—the Rotter with the twin swords—went mad just as we got them to the gate and attacked us all."

"Impossible."

"I've got two men down to prove it. Come see for yourself, ber—my lord."

"No."

The duke's man narrowed his eyes but his voice was now mild. Two more steps and the wand would be within my reach.

"The Warden himself is at the gate holding the Rotter off." And more mildly still, but with a gleam of satisfaction, he added, "He sent me to request your presence. Immediately."

On my hands and knees, I grabbed for the wand just as the nabassu growled and flung out his wings in anger. One wing caught me a glancing blow, which didn't prevent me from snatching up the wand but did a thorough job of giving away my position. I threw myself forward towards the duke's man who stood blocking the doorway, mouth gaping open. I barreled right into him.

"What the—" was all he got out before the nabassu's claws raked across us both. They scraped across my Stoneskin with damage only to my vest. By the sound, the planar fellow did not get off so easily. But I didn't hang around to check out his injuries; I ran flat out down the corridor.

The duke's man screamed. The nabassu roared. And I skidded around and fired off the wand.

The first fireball seemed to piss him off more than do any serious damage. The nabassu shook his head and moved towards me. I hit him again. Fire filled the corridor in a bright explosion. He walked on through it.

"Mortal," he said. "I am going to feast on your living flesh."

I hit him again. He flapped his wings and growled. Was he beginning to look a mite singed around the edges? Yes, but he was still coming. I fired twice more, as fast as I could get the wand to respond. He staggered. The hot blast from that last explosion was close enough to make my eyes water. I needed him to hold still, damn it. A quick look behind me told me I was running out of corridor.

In desperation, I cast a Web spell at his feet. He tore right through it.

"I see you now, mageling."

Oh, crap. I gave my ring another twist. Nothing happened. I fired the wand again but this time the nabassu had enough warning to run at least a little out of its way. That wouldn't have been so bad if he had backed away from me, but of course he didn't. Now he was close. Too close.

You should never throw a fireball at your own feet unless you fancy the thought of self-immolation. But I couldn't say I fancied letting the demon gorge on my living flesh. I raised the wand.

Time stopped. I don't mean that in a poetic way. Time literally stopped for me, for the demon, hells, for everyone in the multiverse as far as I knew—except for Master Mekrath.

My eyes tracked what happened next but the images didn't make it to my brain until, with one chaotic leap, time started running again. First he cast what looked like a Malison spell on the demon. His eyes were intent and his brow furrowed in concentration. He cast two more spells that I didn't recognize. Nothing had happened yet, mind you—once the spell splashed against its target, it was frozen in time as well.

Next, Mekrath walked towards me, past the demon, and stopped between us. He gave me a little headshake. I saw his mouth move but couldn't read his lips.

And then time flowed again.

"Get down!" Mekrath shouted. He pushed me back against the wall, shielding me with his body just as the first blast exploded. Everything behind him turned white hot. The second explosion came so quick upon the first that to my abused ears it was all one horrendous roar. A blast of hot air rocked me off my feet and Mekrath fell on top of me. Not, I think, on purpose.

He chuckled in my ear.

"I've never set off a Sunfire in an enclosed area," he said. "I should have thought through the physics a little better."

"Get off." I wriggled out from under him. The demon wasn't moving. Something plopped down on the floor next to him. Debris from the stone ceiling—no, it was _slag_ from the ceiling.

"Master," I said, "You need to teach me that spell."

Mekrath gave me a look. Thus braced, I stood and walked over to what was left of the demon's body.

"I'd say he's pretty much dead."

"Not really," Mekrath said gloomily. "Oh, don't look so frightened, he's dead and gone, or close enough," he said. "He'll be reborn in the Abyss. You needn't concern yourself about that one for the next century or so, I daresay."

He prodded the blackened carcass with the end of his staff until he uncovered the blackened, cracked gem around the demon's neck.

"Care to do the honors?" he asked me with a grin.

I grinned back. Was this chivalry? Or just the desire to keep his shoes clean? Who cared? I stepped forward onto the blistering hot floor and crushed what was left of the Mastery Orb under my boot.

"There," Mekrath said. "You have your revolution. Now can we get out of here?"

"The thralls are freed? All of them?"

"Do you not feel the change? Like a dampening effect, suddenly lifted? That artifact fueled the spells on the collars."

"Where's the gate?"

Mekrath pointed to the turn in the corridor.

"It's a straight shot out."

"Not your gate, the Warden's gate! Gods, I hope we aren't too late."

Before I could sprint away, Mekrath spun me around with a hand on my shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Haer'Dalis and the other actors need our help. He's fighting the Warden."

"_Our_ help? When was _I_ enlisted in this misbegotten rescue? I came here for one purpose and one purpose only. I have achieved that purpose."

"Stay here then. I'll be back when I can."

"If you wish to run your head into a meat grinder, I cannot stop you. But you will not lose my gem again. Give it to me. Now."

"And have you leave and shut your gate behind you? I think I'll hold it a little longer."

"I've put up with enough nonsense from you. What's the matter? Don't you trust those plane-walking friends of yours to see you back home?"

"I need your help, Mekrath."

"Oh, I'm very certain you need more than that. From what I've heard, this cambion is more dangerous than the demon we just destroyed. I've exhausted my best spells. I am not prepared to take on the Warden and neither are you. Let me offer you some wise counsel: walk away while you're still living."

"Gee, thanks. That was helpful."

Mekrath shook his head.

"You really should be more grateful, youngling. You don't live to my age by acting without thought for the consequences. You've already freed the actors from their thralldom. What more do you think you can do?"

"I don't leave my friends in trouble." I ground out the words. I wished they were true.

I hadn't meant to lead my friends into the kind of trouble we'd found under the Promenade in Amn. Neither Khalid nor Dynaheir had walked away from it. Sometimes I think Haer'Dalis was right when he said chaos clung to me like a lover—the kind of jealous, abusive lover anyone would be better off without. I could blame Bhaal's blood for the bad things that kept happening to me but what good did that do? How many more would die because they crossed my wake?

I was just so tired of people doing bad things because they could. Irenicus took me and my friends because he could—because no one could or would stop him. And this Duke Darkwood, what gave him the right to hunt and harass the actors across the planes? What gave the Warden the right to enslave everyone here? I was so sick of it all.

"You barely know this tiefling. He's used you, Minette. What claim does he have to your loyalty?" He scowled at my shrug. "Let me tell you, Minette, old heroes are as scarce as…as planar gems. So if you insist upon acting against all common sense, would you kindly hand over my property first?"

We got into a short staring contest. Mekrath said he was out of his best spells but something told me he had a trick or two in reserve—a trick he would turn against me if I made it necessary.

Well, hells, if he didn't want to help, I couldn't make him.

"Fine. Take it." I opened my inner pocket and pulled out the gem. He unwrapped the handkerchief I'd wound about it, untrusting sod, to make sure I wasn't handing him a decoy even though he could surely feel its power. I watched him, hands on my hips.

"There," I said. "Satisfied now?"

He gave me another long unsmiling look and a short shake of the head.

"How are you fixed for potions?"

"I'm out."

He rummaged through his case.

"Here. Invisibility and my most potent strength potion. I'll give you one last bit of advice, which you may ignore at your peril. You realize, do you not, that even if you were rested and prepared, your arcane skills would not be up for this contest?"

"So I should just give up?"

"Yes. You should walk away." He grabbed my hand as I turned from him. "But if you choose to fight anyway, you have a unique…" He struggled for a word and came up with, "…birthright. You know whose daughter you are. Wait your chance and use your blade, Minette. Assassinate the cambion."

I couldn't think of any witty parting words so I pulled a face instead. He quirked his lips at me. I turned and trotted off to my doom.


	11. The Inevitable End

_Author's Note: Complete at last! Sorry this last chapter took so long but I had to scrap my crappy first draft and start from scratch. I hope you've enjoyed my little tale, Dear Reader. I would love to hear your reaction._

**Chapter 11…The Inevitable End**

I wasn't exactly sure where to find the Warden and his gate, so I headed back towards his office. Hearing shouting up ahead, I moved softly, ready to pull Mekrath's invisibility potion out of my pocket. There were few straight walls in this prison; everything curved. When I turned the undulating corner I saw a guard surrounded by six unarmed male prisoners. The guard pointed his control rod at one of the men even though it was obvious they all knew it didn't work.

"Get back in your cell at once! Or it will go hard on you when the Master of Thralls repairs your collars."

I should have walked on by but I couldn't resist.

"The Master of Thralls is dead," I said. "I destroyed the Mastery Orb myself."

"Impossible! The demon will shred your heart for that lie!" The guard's voice jumped to a frightened pitch. I grinned.

"Your Master is a greasy spot on the floor back there and I've got the goo on my boots to prove it. Go look if you don't believe me."

"You lie!"

But he took an uneasy step backward. One of the prisoners growled, actually growled, like an enraged dog. Guess these guys weren't as human as they looked. The sound made the hairs stand up on my arms. The guard turned and fled. Two of the prisoners sprinted after him but the others gave me curious looks. One of them fingered his dead collar.

"This is true? You—you killed the demon?"

"Well, not by myself…"

I jumped back when he lunged for me. Luckily, I realized he was attempting a hug, not an attack, before I pulled my blade. The other men crowded around me. Their expressions were strange, as if freedom was a concept they were trying to grasp. Well, good luck to that but I had things to do.

"I need to find the Warden's gate," I said.

"The gate! Yes, the gate—we should all go to the gate!"

Our little group picked up members, including a group of nervous gnomes, until we were practically a crowd. Three people ran on ahead, pushing to be first through the gate, I supposed. Jerks. I was trying to decide if travelling with so many was a brilliant ruse or idiocy when those three returned, moving faster than when they'd left. They skidded to a stop before us. One fellow bent over, his chest heaving as he worked to catch his breath.

"The Warden's blocked the gate," he gasped. "He's _really_ torqued off and he's drawn his cursed blade. We're all in deep blek."

Deep blek, huh? What else was new? Sometimes I think the bottom of the privy is my natural environment.

"Maybe we could rush him," I suggested. The three sprinters gave me an almost identical look of incredulity. Several of the prisoners beside me made unpleasant muttering noises.

"Maybe we should send in a champion," one of the gnomes said. He was a wizened little fellow with yellow teeth and a dark straggly beard. He put his hands on his hips.

"You volunteering?" I asked. A couple of the others gave me the eye as well. The group shuffled about uncertainly.

"You're the demon slayer, aren't you?" the gnome said. Was that sarcasm? He had no call to be so loud and belligerent. I began to feel very conspicuous.

"Who, me?" My laugh sounded nervous even to my own ears. "Really, I think we should mob him. He can't take on all of us at once."

"You think? Looking for cannon fodder, are you?"

"Cannon fodder?"

"You know what I mean." He tilted his head back to meet my gaze. His long nose pointed straight at me. "Ever see him fight? I have. The cambion would mow through us like a sickle through dry grass."

"Not if we work together."

"Oh, yeah? You're the one with a sword. What do you think I can do—bite him on the kneecap?"

Everyone hates a smart-alecky gnome. Come to think of it, have I ever met a gnome I hadn't immediately wanted to drop down a well?

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Taggett."

"Well, tell you what, Taggett. Why don't you head back to your cell and lock yourself in? Maybe when the Warden summons another demon to be your new master, he won't be too pissed at you. Sound good?"

"Sounds better than having the Warden spill my guts and step in them," he replied. But before the argument got any further, five women came running from the corridor behind us. Their eyes were stretched wide in panic.

"Get out of the way," one shouted. "The Warden's called his pets."

People stampeded for one of the side corridors. The good news was that if the Warden was calling for help, then he needed it. He hadn't yet subdued Haer'Dalis and his friends. But when his reinforcements arrived, that could change. Assuming they arrived, that is. Could I stop them? My feet slowed.

"What kind of pets?" I yelled.

"Bugs!"

Despite Mekrath's frequently expounded opinion, I'm not a total imbecile. So I wasn't expecting a trivial cloud of blood flies. In fact, I was pretty sure I knew what was coming. And I wasn't wrong, hells take me. A group of umber hulks lumbered forward. Each one of these 'bugs' stood half again my height. There was a good dozen of them. Their shells are hard and tough, yet with enough flexibility to resist a blade. Their four-eyed gaze can make your head whirl.

I had one Web spell left of the ones I'd prepared for my as-yet-unscheduled raid on Draug Fea and his band. One night I'm going to glue those rude thugs to their beds and do something nefarious to them. With Tymora's grace, I might yet live to pay back their insults but at any rate, I had the spells ready. Just goes to show that vengeful thoughts and plans can be unexpectedly useful, despite what the followers of Ilmater want you to believe.

I webbed the corridor before me and the bugs ran right into it. Since I didn't have anything to protect me from their gaze, I screwed my eyes shut and covered them with one hand. I drew the fire wand with the other. With a short but ardent prayer to Mystra that Mekrath had given me a fully charged wand, I fired it, blind, again and again and again. I fired it until it heated in my hand, until I smelled scorched bug, until I could no longer hear the chitter-chatter of their mandibles and claws.

I cautiously uncovered one eye. There was nothing alive in my web.

For a moment there was silence, broken only by the popping of overheated bug carapaces. And then prisoners boiled out from the side corridor, yelling and cheering. The sounds of congratulations were broken by one high-pitched shriek.

Something huge swooshed over my head. It was the biggest wyvern I'd ever seen. The beast's wings scraped against the sides of the wide corridor. Why it didn't stop to kill me, I don't know. The wyvern streaked down the corridor and took the right turn before I had the wits to send a fireball after it.

The crowd broke and ran back down the side corridor. I could hardly blame them but I trotted off after the wyvern. Mekrath was right, damn him. I really was an idiot.

I heard the wyvern's hisses and growls up ahead, and slowed to a walk. I pulled Mekrath's invisibility potion from my pocket and downed it. The corridor opened up into a room, although 'room' seemed the wrong word for a space large enough to have its own weather. I half expected to see clouds overhead, where the wyvern flapped its leathery wings and circled above a lone man, who stood watchful and poised. A knot of people behind him drew further back, leaving him to face the beast unaided.

The best way to kill wyverns, according to my friend Coran, is to shoot them full of poisoned arrows from a protected blind. If, through accident or stupidity, melee range couldn't be avoided, a spear was his weapon of choice. I could almost see the admiring headshake and hear the scornful words he'd have for any fool standing off against a wyvern while armed only with a pair of short swords.

The wyvern's wings brushed the ceiling as it arced into a tight turn. The beast was neither as graceful nor as agile as a hawk, yet it managed a creditable swoop upon its prey. Haer'Dalis leapt like an acrobat but the wyvern's talons closed around one of his knees and swept him off the ground.

Out in the open, the beast would probably fly to a back-breaking height and drop him. Instead, the wyvern bent its head and opened its great beak. But before it could snap, Haer'Dalis twisted and drove one of his swords into the beast's lower jaw.

The wyvern shook its head, trying to dislodge the blade. Already laboring under the tiefling's weight, the wyvern needed a few frantic wing flaps to pull up before it crashed. Its talons opened like it was trying to shake Haer'Dalis loose. The tiefling didn't cooperate. He let go of the sword in the beast's jaw and hooked his free hand between two scales. He twined his legs around the wyvern's thigh.

As I watched, Haer'Dalis thrust his remaining sword up into the junction between the wyvern's belly and leg, where the scales are thin and flexible. The wyvern arched its back in agony and tried to strike its rider with its barbed, poisonous tail. I couldn't tell if it hit Haer'Dalis or struck its own body.

I don't know if the tiefling thrust his blade deeper or just changed the angle but blood began to spurt out, hitting the ground like hot rain. The wyvern hissed, faltered—and then it fell. Even with its wings spread wide to break its fall, it landed with a heavy thud that I could feel through my boot soles. The height wasn't great but a wyvern weighs enough to crush a man. I couldn't see Haer'Dalis. He was buried under the wyvern's wings.

Only when the Warden ran forward did I realize that I, like the handful of others near him, had been staring mesmerized by Haer'Dalis's fight. I could have slaughtered myself for wasting such a perfect opportunity. Even from across the huge room I could sense the Warden's fury. He was unarmored but I could see the shimmer of spell protections around him. He had a sword in his hand.

The wyvern wasn't dead yet. It twitched. But the Warden's concern was not for his 'pet'. He grabbed the end of one wing and ripped it up with brutality. He reached down and yanked Haer'Dalis out by the foot. I couldn't tell if the tiefling was dead or merely stunned. The Warden didn't seem sure himself.

I ran forward lightly on my toes. Could I get there before the Warden killed Haer'Dalis? Only if I could fly—but Tymora must have been looking out for the tiefling. The Warden raised his sword, which gleamed with something close to malevolence, but he turned at a shout behind him. Someone separated from the knot of people standing further back in the room and ran towards the Warden. By his dress, he was one of the duke's men. He and the Warden began arguing and as I approached, I caught the gist of it. The duke wanted the actors brought to him alive and if the Warden killed this one, he (the duke's man) would make certain the duke heard about it.

"Do you think I care about Darkwood's displeasure?" the Warden asked haughtily.

I stopped and did my best to catch my breath before my panting gave me away.

"You're a fool if you don't," the other said. "Would you pit yourself against Darkwood's faction? Dare you face the Fated?"

"Dare you threaten me here?"

Was I going to get a better chance than this? I slugged down Mekrath's strength potion. The moment it hit my tongue, before I could even swallow it down, I felt its magic course through me. It was potent, he had told me. Potent! I felt like a god.

Silently, I pulled my sword (since I'd broken my best dagger, damn it) and crept up behind the Warden. Had he been of normal height, I would have gone for the throat—quick, neat, and hardly ever fails. But he was so damned tall that the stroke was awkward. I didn't think he'd hold still while I fetched a stepstool. So I went for the kidney stroke instead.

I stabbed him. He died instantly. Impressed by my prowess, all opposition fell away. Victory! And we all lived happily ever after.

Well, that would have been nice.

I stabbed him. But somehow he was warned—did he hear my breath or my pounding heart? Did he smell me? Did the mad god Cyric, my father's nemesis, whisper in his ear? I don't know, but he turned, and the blow that should have been fatal was not.

I hurt him bad though. I'd hit with all my strength (and Mekrath's potion had made me stronger than a troll) and my blade bit deep. I think I broke a rib or two as well. The Warden staggered but caught himself before he fell. He whirled, saw through my fading invisibility, and parried my next stroke with his blade. His parry was weak but it was good enough to turn my sword.

_Sorry, Mekrath, I guess I'm not that great an assassin after all._

"You!" he snarled. "I should have killed you when I had my hand on your throat."

This probably wasn't the time for a clever taunt, even if I could think of one, which I couldn't. I feinted at his knee and then whipped my blade in an arc to slash his arm. My sword sliced his bicep. Wouldn't it have been nice if I'd disarmed him? I didn't even slow him down. I don't know if his sword was cursed but there was definitely something nasty about it. He came after me with wide furious blows and kept me busy dodging. He looked mad enough to fall on me like a beast and tear me apart with his teeth.

Blood dripped from the sopping edge of his tunic. Given enough time, he would slow and falter but given enough time, my strength potion would wear off. Given enough time, one of us would make a fatal mistake. Probably me; he was the better swordsman. And who knew what hidden reserves of endurance his demon blood gave him?

From the corner of my eye, I saw the duke's man circle around. My heart slammed against my chest. _Now that's just not fair, damn it._ I couldn't take on two of them. But instead of ambushing me, he warily approached the dying wyvern and crouched beside Haer'Dalis. I had to trust that he wanted the tiefling alive badly enough that he wouldn't harm him further for there wasn't much of anything I could do to help.

I was distracted by a ragged chorus of shrieks behind me. But the Warden didn't take advantage of my lapse. He was distracted, too. His scowl deepened—and was that a touch of apprehension? A score or more of prisoners ran towards us. Had they rallied to help me? Had they rallied to help _him_?

They ran straight past us, heading for the unguarded gate.

Well, hells.

The Warden's lip lifted in a smirk but he didn't immediately press his attack.

"What brings you here, mortal?" he asked. "Surely you didn't risk your life to liberate that scum? You can judge for yourself the depth of their appreciation."

Was he actually curious or was he angling for a breather? I suspected the latter. I needed a breather too but I couldn't risk having my potion wear off. Prisoners continued to arrive. Some of them formed a loose semicircle near us. The gnome Taggett waved his hands to catch my attention, damn him. Couldn't he see I was more than a little busy?

"I came for the Sigil Troupe."

"Indeed. Going after Darkwood's bounty, are you? Aawill said you'd found them first. Did he poach them from you?"

"Something like that."

"By your presence here now, I gather Aawill won't be pressing me for his payment." I raised my brows and gave him a faint smile. "Well, then. Perhaps you and I can reach an accommodation."

"Easily," I said. "Release the Sigil Troupe to me and set us a portal back to the Prime."

"That's all you ask?" His sarcasm was clear but I wasn't sure where it was directed. Was I asking too much or too little? His head tilted and I got the strong impression that he was listening for something. Was he expecting more reinforcements?

"Free us and I promise I won't bother you again."

Angry shouts came from the gate. I flicked my eyes towards the shouters but they were still milling about.

"They have just realized that the gate will not work without my key," the cambion said casually, his words pitched for my ears alone.

"I expect they will be a bit upset," I said, equally casual. Upset enough to mob him? That was the question, wasn't it?

"Their fear is stronger than their desire for freedom," the Warden said. He sounded confident but I thought he was bluffing. "So long as they have no focal point to incite them, they will not turn on me." He gave me a considering look. "Do I have your word you will leave quietly?"

"Of course."

"I'll have your hand on it."

Taggett crept closer and practically jumped up and down to catch my eye. I gave him a tiny shooing motion.

"My hand?"

"Is that not a custom upon the Prime, to seal a bargain with a handshake?"

"So…you pledge to let me and the actors go free? You won't attempt to hinder or harm any of us?"

"You have my word." He smiled. He held out his hand. I moved a half step closer. I'd been holding my sword in a two-handed grip. I'm left-handed so I slowly offered him my off-hand. He reached for it…

And I slammed my hand back on my sword and slashed it into his throat, hard and fast. Before the blood could spray, I pivoted, ready to strike again. But I didn't need another stroke. His spell protections had run out. The Warden toppled to the floor. When he hit, his head bounced at a strange angle, half-severed from his neck. I'd have to congratulate Mekrath on the effectiveness of his strength potion, if I ever saw him again.

The room was very silent. Eyes gaped wide, mouths gaped open. Near the wyvern's body, I saw Haer'Dalis struggle to his knees. Raelis and the other actors ran over to him. The duke's man, still staring at me, did not interfere.

"I tried to warn you but you knew he'd double-cross you, didn't you?" Taggett finally said. His stunned disbelief was far from flattering. "The cambion would have pulled your arm out of the socket. With our hero down, the rest of us would have surrendered."

"I figured he had something like that in mind." I must look pretty damned dumb, for everyone to assume I'd take a demon at his word. I do get tired of constantly being doubted and underestimated but I have to admit that it comes in handy.

I knelt by the body and emptied the Warden's pockets. I came up with a handful of gems (some real beauties too) but one of them was not what it seemed. By the buzz of power, I guessed that this was his portal gem. I trotted over to Haer'Dalis, who was not only on his feet but had managed to recover both his blades. Chaos and Entropy, he called them. Fitting names, I supposed.

If Haer'Dalis felt shaky, he didn't show it as he faced off against Darkwood's soldier.

"I healed you," the duke's man said. "You owe me your life."

"You have my sincere gratitude," Haer'Dalis said smoothly. "But I owe my life to another." They both turned to me as I approached. Haer'Dalis made me a small but graceful bow. The duke's man gave me an uneasy look.

"I have no quarrel with you, outsider," he told me. His voice was almost placating. Goodness. Kill a cambion and all kinds of people start showing you some respect. "I'll just take my prisoners and go."

"There are no prisoners here," I said. I gestured at the mass of people pressing towards us. A struggle passed over his face as he assessed the odds. Then he spread his hands in acquiescence.

"Have it your way," he said. "For now." He turned and gave Raelis a look. "But do not expect my master to give up so easily. He never forgets an insult."

"It was never our intention to insult the duke," she said. "We did not know the play we performed had any basis in truth."

"Save your lies for the stage, Raelis Shai," he said. "The duke knows who wrote the Comedy of Terrors. You chose to make him look a fool, but he is no fool." With a nod to me, he stalked off. Her face was blank as she watched him leave, but animation returned when I held the Warden's gem out to her.

"Can you use this, Raelis?" I couldn't help but return her relieved smile.

"I certainly can!"

At first glance, the gate was disappointing, nothing more than a darkened patch on the floor. But when Raelis held out the key, I felt a ripple of power run through me. A glittering tracery of glowing lines sprang into the air before us, intersecting at odd angles as if they'd been reflected from an array of prisms.

"It will take me a moment to sort out the possibilities," Raelis said breathlessly. She then faced the crowd and pitched her voice to carry. "I shall open a portal to Sigil and we shall leave this terrible place. Be patient, my friends. This will take time and concentration."

The thralls seemed to take that in stride. Some of them ran off, possibly to tell any remaining ex-prisoners of the plans to escape the demiplane. Or perhaps they were going to fit in a last spot of looting. Too bad I didn't have time to do a spot of looting myself.

Before she started, she turned to me.

"My savior." She took me in her arms and kissed my cheeks and my lips. "Will you walk the planes with us, my child?" She turned to give Haer'Dalis a conspiratorial wink. "We would be happy for your company. I feel certain you could make a name for yourself upon the larger stage that is Sigil."

"I have other commitments," I said with a small pang of regret. "Before you open the gate to Sigil, can you return me to Athkatla?"

"Yes," she said, with a sigh of disappointment that seemed real enough. Of course, with an actress, who could tell? "Then we must bid you adieu."

I turned to Haer'Dalis and held out my hands but he did not look at me. His eyes were on Raelis Shai.

"Miss Raelis," he said. "I will not be coming with you. Not this time."

She had shown no surprise at my refusal but she was shocked by his.

"But Haer'Dalis—my sweet sparrow—what is this? No more plays? No more theater? Oh, my sparrow, do not let this contretemps with Darkwood turn you away from the art."

"If I turn away, it is not his reactions but your intentions that I fear."

"I thought…I thought you understood what I was trying to accomplish with the Comedy of Terrors. My Doomguard, I thought you would approve."

"And so did I, Miss Raelis." He sighed. "But I was wrong. You attempt to play chaos like a young conduit, called to dance to your piping. Powers like Duke Darkwood will be torn down by entropy in time. That is good. But you wish to tear them down only to fill their void with new order. This is not my philosophy, Miss Raelis. I am sorry."

"As am I. But what will you do, my sparrow? Darkwood is still your enemy, and will not regard your change of heart."

"I mean to return to the Prime with Minette, if she will have me."

"You wish to go to the _Prime_?" She stared at him with the horrified astonishment I'd have expected if he'd asked for a one-way gate to the hells. His eyes flicked to me but he stepped closer to Raelis.

"Please understand, Raelis." He took her hand in both of his. "Can you not feel the swirls and eddies of chaos that cling to her? She bears the blood of a dead god who will tear the Prime apart if that leads to his rebirth. Bhaal seeks to overturn his own ending. Minette moves towards a destiny I can only imagine—can only dream—and I must see where it leads."

"A dead god. Yes, I had heard the rumors that our savior was a child of Bhaal. What Doomguard could resist a new Time of Troubles?" Raelis murmured. "And yet…to trap yourself on the Prime—is that what you truly wish, Haer'Dalis? I had not thought you to be happy with your feet so firmly grounded."

"I feel certain it shall prove fascinating."

Raelis managed to follow the traces left by the gate that brought us to this prison and so, instead of some random location, Haer'Dalis and I found ourselves back in the playhouse. There was no sign of Mekrath. I can't say I was all that surprised. Haer'Dalis looked around and took a deep breath, as if inhaling the essence of the Prime. All I could smell was the musty curtains and a faint trace of floor wax. He gave me one of his fey, disturbing smiles.

"Despite what you claim to sense about me, I'm not exactly enamored of chaos and ruin," I said. "Just to be clear, I avoid that as much as possible."

"Wanton destruction is no goal of mine," he murmured. "Nothing lasts forever, nor should it, but all will decay in its own time. A Doomguard supports the natural order."

"I don't understand your philosophy but it sounds…" Crazed? Fanatical? I hesitated but he read my face. He gave me an indulgent shake of his head.

" 'Tis simple enough. For every beginning, there is an ending. For every life, there comes a death. That is inevitable and logical, yes?"

"If even gods can die, then yes, we will too. Not that I'm looking forward to the event."

"Ah, but you see, a good ending should be our one true goal. A good death gives meaning to your life. 'Tis the only thing that does."

As a philosophy, I supposed that was marginally more satisfying than Mekrath's advice to preserve your own life at all costs. Maybe. At my expression, he gave a low laugh.

"But come, let us speak of life, not of death." He moved in closer and put his hands on my shoulders. "I stand before you with naught but my swords, the clothes on my back, and the life that I owe you. Tell me, Minette. How may I serve you?"

I looked into his face. I smiled.

"I have an idea or two," I said. I put my hands around his waist. The heat in his eyes warmed me down to my toes.

"So do I."

I haven't had much luck with men. My relationships start with kisses; end with tears. Perhaps, as Haer'Dalis said, all beginnings require endings. I was a child of Bhaal—living happily ever after was not in my prophecy. But maybe…maybe a good ending was not out of my reach.

I stood on my toes and kissed him.


End file.
